


The Link

by RibbitRabbit



Series: Shattered Grace [1]
Category: Red Queen - Victoria Aveyard
Genre: Canon Compliant, Childhood, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Impressions, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Name drops and all, One-Sided Attraction, Pre red queen, Psychological Torture, Red Queen related characters and story at chapter 6, Suicide Attempt, Unnamed minor characters made fit into this story, as much as I can
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-30 05:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 40,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12101643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RibbitRabbit/pseuds/RibbitRabbit
Summary: Sold, hidden, isolated. Alyn Velx was one of few, of a long forgotten house. Given away by his father to no one else but the Queen herself, he finds himself as the unwilling accomplice to form a mind. Create and manipulate. Years later, he returns to the palace, getting caught and enthralled in a net of lies with chaos unfolding, threatening to swallow him whole. To make him lose the last straws that hold his fragile balance and the love his heart holds for Maven Calore.





	1. Focus( reworked)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156174254@N05/43895910992/in/dateposted-public/)   
> 

 

* * *

A story can start can start with a single breath, in the arms of a lover, it can start in a moment of strength. A moment of weakness. A death- a birth.  
We tell ourselves we write our own stories. Some are epic voyages, some are bloody battles. Some stories will never be told, and a few will be heard throughout the ages.  
Alyn Velx never had the feeling he could write his own story. Instead, he read others. Trying to get by a world that was harsh and cruel.  
Alyn's story starts precisely on a day that was not so special all in all, for anyone.  
There was no arrival, no mysterious stranger. All there had been was a father throwing open a door.

Alyn remembered the times his father visited him in his scarce chamber. Often the small light of a candle was burning. The candle was the only bright anchor in the darkness. It showed dancing dust particles. It flickered and whispered of shadows.  
He remembered everything. Even though he wished to forget often in his later life.

The liveliest memory of Leon Velx setting foot in the small room he locked his son in would be a memory of many things, on THAT one day. It was the memory of how he lost his home. It was a memory of a child that was nothing but waiting for love. It was the memory of a too small and shaking boy. It was the memory of when he lost a part of himself. A fragment of his soul, deciding to give it away, not completely willingly. Like a shared heart, hoping to be held tender in stranger's hands.

He had often felt his father watching him, listening on the other side of his door. He wasn't malicious, but the way he stood, motionless and lost in thought, had held something threatening. Alyn's father had always something bitter around him, something dark and desperate. He looked at his firstborn son, his eldest, whom he shared the Velx blood with. The blood laced with the ability to feel. Feel every aspect of the other's soul, how he felt, and how he wished not to feel. These emotions were like strings weaving a fine tapestry. Laced . They were chains linked. The Velx were Links, links stretching into human hearts. It was giving and taking, almost like an exchange.

Manipulators, they had been called. Traitors, turncloaks, history had made them.

House Velx was long past its prime, small and meaningless. His mother had died while giving birth to his little sister. He had been too young to even remember her voice, but he remembered her love. The warm, steady pulse that she had radiated whenever he was close, an aura of happiness. Without her, his family had grown even smaller.

There was Zella, his little sister, slightly chubby, ribbons in her hair and gazing at him with the adoring eyes of a little girl in love with the stars.

There was his uncle Theron, grey flecked beard. Soft spoken, gentle hands that tugged him in bed sometimes when he cried and felt like his head would explode.

And of course, there was his father.

They shared blood as same as the fine brown hair, curling slightly. Not dark brown, not chestnut, but something in between, depending on the light that shone on it.

They had the same green eyes, the green of an empty wine bottle, sparking and instense.

Normally there was disgust and disappointment burning in his fathers eyes. Even as a so small creature, the notion wasn't lost to Alyn.  
When he unlocked the door and let bright daylight scorch the small chamber this time, there was something else as well. It was an expectation.  
"Comb your hair and wash your face." Leon Velx said. His shadow fell over Alyn. The boy was blinking into the bright light, eyes narrowed.  
"Where are we going?" Alyn asked. His father seldom let him out. Sometimes he played in the yard, between brick walls. The manor was hidden from sight through the wide emptiness of hills. There was no one that remembered the Velx enough to care.  
"Do as I say." Leon Velx just answered, his voice flat. "We depart soon."

Walking through the Manor after being in the darkness of the chamber always felt a little like sleepwalking to Alyn. The long corridors made of slowly rotting wood. The smell stung a little on some spots in the walls. He had heard someone once saying the rats came to Rainport Manor to die.  
Maybe it was them rotting between the pipes.  
Cleaning up, that was the order. Washing the dirt from his face.  
He looked down on his stained shirt, the holes in his sleeve.  
His small shaking hands, unsure what to do.

His uncle came to his rescue, a hand gentle guiding, combing hair and peeeling him out of clothes so crumbled the crinkles were like little waves in the fabric.  
The clothes he changed into were in a remarkably better condition than the old faded cloth he wore now. Still faded, the jacket had once been green and black. It was too short on his arms, even for such a small child as himself.  
It was the first and last time clothing would ever be too small. For the rest of his life, he would grow so gaunt, stay so scrawny, every piece of fine silk or scratching wool would hang loose on his frame.

"I don't want to go." the boy had whispered as soon as his father returned. His eyes were inspecting his attire, his face, his small hands still shaking. He didn't like what he saw. He was nervous, disappointing, lurking. Alyn could feel it, extending his mind as it often happened whenever he was afraid or especially sensible. He searched, tried to make sense, but he couldn't control it completely. His uncle said he was talented. That he was compassionate and open, and that he cared. All Alyn knew was that he couldn't escape the grip of the other feelings around him.

"You will." Leon Velx promised. He frowned, nervous and waiting.  
Then his big hand closed around Alyn's small wrist. With a big pull the little boy was forced to follow. He didn't try to fight back.  
Not this time.

One time his uncle had attempted to take him on a trip. As soon as they had reached a road, as soon as other people were remotely in reach, Alyn had started to beg. Beg to make it stop. To return home. He couldn't hold still, twitching and shaking in his seat. Since then, even at home, sometimes, his head hurt so much from using his ability, from knowing exactly how other people felt, it seemed to explode.  
A six-year-old boy, locked in darkness and sobbing quietly.

Since then, when things went extremely bad, there had been a syringe that made him feel himself.  
Alyn remembered the syringe and the yellow liquid well.  
The needle had stung and hurt the first times it had pierced his skin. But the effect was as poisonous for his little body as it was healing for his head.

The rush of nothingness, of being devoid of any feelings. The slightest bit of himself, not the nervousness. Not the fear.  
It was relaxing and it was necessary.  
Medicine, his uncle whispered with pity.  
Drugs, his father sneered and shrugged.  
A seven-year-old child doesn't know the impact of this word. Medicine, on the other side, that is something he knew. Healing and helping, medicine, that was good, wasn't it?

This time, as his father dragged him out of the house, there was no syringe.  
No medicine.  
First Rainport Manor disappeared, getting smaller with every look from the back seat.  
Then Corvium passed in the distance.  
Woods and cities, water roaring in a river.  
All along the road, he begged and pleaded, until he sat silent. And fell asleep.  
He only woke up when they reached the capital.  
That first dim impression of a city. The first blinking of a tired child. It was so vastly different from his home. Nothing he had read or imagined was as impressive as this city.

He remembered how overwhelmed he had been. So many people. So many colors. Too many feelings.  
The floors of the palace were very different from those at home.  
It was bright and clear. And the air was filled with the brim of some sort of flowery perfumes, biting each other.  
Everything in this place was wrong, upside down. Sending his head spinning.

His father hadn't turned as Alyn forced himself to stay close to him instead of just running away, hiding behind a rich colored curtain. It was blatantly clear how poor they were in contrast to even those curtains. Their clothes looked used and the way people eyed his father was confusing Alyn.

Brushing along his mind, he felt all their minds singing to him.  
Some sang praise. Some sang sorrow. Some dripped of venom and hissed at him.

_**This one was worried but didn't show it.** _

**_That one was happy. Her friend was jealous, venomous behind her smile._ **

If they don't stop, he thought. I will explode. His seven year old mind could not comprehend the burden.

**_Anger, joy, jealousy, greed, sadness..._ **

His father was holding his wrist again. But less hard. The force he displayed was all focused on keeping his face straight. Of not letting any emotion show.  
 _People say we are worthless_ , Leon Velx had once hissed.  _They will learn and see._

"Can we go home?" Alyn whispered, daring to tug a little on the grip his father was holding. "Why are we waiting? I don't like it here."

"Shh." was the sharp hissed answer. Not even one glance.

„Lord Velx. Such a pleasure to meet you again. It has been far too long." A man had appeared in front of them. Alyn forced himself to look at him. He was bony, thin, and the way he eyed his fahter was curious.

But it didn't fit the friendly greeting at all. Lies, Alyn thought. It was there and then for the first time he realized what friendly lies taste like.

How they brushed over him. Sweet fruits turning foul. Words hiding intent.

He felt some kind of strange relief in the man as his dark eyes met Alyns.

„That must be your son." he just said. But Alyn felt he wanted to say far more.

„Indeed. My son, Alyn." Keep your back straight, don't look down. All that had his father and uncle told him. He couldn't obey the lessons. Instead, he hunched over, half hiding behind his father's leg like a much younger child would have.

„Follow me, if you would be so kind." the stranger said.

He didn't understand why it was so important for his father to please this man. The hand that guided him pulled again. Alyn stayed close. He followed through hallways, felt the brushing whisper of minds. Saw the rich colors of clothes so fine and bright they may have reminded him of exotic birds.  
If he had not been afraid he may have seen more. But so he trotted along, and couldn't look too long before a headache started again. And the heart in his chest fluttered with happiness or grief that wasn't his fast. Alyn felt them flash through himself.

_You need to push it back. You need to stay focused._

His uncle had taught him how to breathe, how to think, whenever his ability was close to overwhelming him.

_Steady breathing, in, out. You can do it, Alyn. Looking around, he wished his uncle had been here. He always knew what to do._

The breathing helped. It helped him to stay on his feet, following the stranger and his father.

_One foot in front of the other, but steady. Do it, Alyn, you can do it._

"You'll learn, " his uncle had promised him."We are all that is left of house Velx . We are a story long forgotten. But you, Alyn Velx, are the future. Make it a bright one."

His father held nothing on those lessons. When he came to Alyn's doorstep and unlocked it, there were lessons of another kind.

Leon Velx was a Link, just as Alyn, but he detested humans too much to understand what they were feeling. Nor did he care. All he cared for, was fortune, fame, trying to restore the house.

As Alyn Velx would learn in his later years, his father was a lousy player of the game. One that had ste foot in so wrong few people acknowledged his existence. With few allys.

Which was the reason he was so eager now. He was trying to impress.

**Focusfocusfocusfocus.**

He felt his insides twisting.

**That one there wanted to impress. The other wanted to fight him.**

„Alyn." his fathers stern voice made him look up. Into deep green eyes, like his, surrounded by wrinkles and sorrow. He felt how nervous his father was. It didn't help him calm down." Keep it together."

Keep it together. In retrospect Alyn laughed at the effort his seven-year-old self-had made, standing straight, head up, face made of stone, though the tears stung in his eyes.

It was then that his father had left him alone in the room, and Alyn felt uneasy and distressed.

„You just soothe him. Don't do anything else.„ His father had said to him. "Your uncle might tell you tales of miracles and healing, but this is far too important to ruin it. Do you understand?"

„Who?"Alyn asked.

„That doesn't matter." another distressed sigh. For all his life, and the short time his son and he spend together, Leon Velx would view Alyn as an asset and as a burden. Even as a child, Alyn had sensed that. It had made him question himself, had made him sad. He was a pain, and his father wanted to get rid of the pain. "Do you understand?"

He would do anything to ease his mind.

"Just do what I tell you, be a good boy."

Alyn was a good boy, was he not? He knew he wanted to be.  
"Yes, father," he said.

The room was unlike anything Alyn had seen. It was bigger than his small chamber, but that was no wonder. There ought to be one or two broom closets that could compete with the narrow darkness of his bedstead.  
It wasn't the richly colored curtains, the marble floor. It wasn't the fine crafted chairs and table. It was not even the fact the air was cold and strangely stale.  
Despite the light and the furniture, the room wasn't alive. There was nothing personal. Nothing inhabiting it that made it more friendly and less hostile.

The first steps to disappear were the strangers. The next was the screeching old soles of his father's boots.

So he stood there, staring at another boy, trying to figure out what exactly was happening here.

The boy was his age, or just slightly older. He said on the table, back hunched, shoulders drawn up, and something in Alyn felt pity. Because Alyn knew the motion too well.

Alyn's head was still spinning. He stepped a little closer to the dark-haired boy. Was he sick?

He looked sick. His face was ashen. Pale and thin, sharp and somehow...wrong. There was no other word to describe it. It was not that he was ugly, or deformed. From the outside, there was not so much difference to any silver child the same age. But his inside, the Link that tugged at Alyn, the mind. It was as if someone or something had turned every feeling of that boy upside down.

Soothe him. His father had said. He knew what Leon Velx wanted him to do.  
It didn't make sense. It was a whirlwind. Confusing.

Alyn couldn't bring himself to get any closer. Whatever was wrong with the boy, it made him even more uneasy than any other feeling in this palace.

„Hello," Alyn said. Was he allowed to talk? He hoped he wouldn't get in trouble.

When would his father return?

The boy looked up. Brilliant blue eyes freckled with silver stared back at him, but he didn't answer.

Alyn felt his confusion. More than anything the boy was afraid and hurt. He didn't know why. He just knew there was something that wasn't right.

His feelings weren't much different from the ones that Alyn had.

„Hello." the boy said, shifting in his seat.

Now Alyn did step closer despite the whirlwind of emotion that hit him.

„My name is Alyn." he introduced himself. The boy watched him closely.

„My mother told me someone would come," he said, making no effort to tell Alyn his name.

Alyn pushed the feelings of all the people surrounding him away as best as he could, focusing on the boy.

„I am here to help you." he offered, as the whirlwind tugged at him, threatening to swallow him whole."What's your name?"

The boy pondered as if he didn't know if he even was allowed.

„Maven." he then said.

„Maven," Alyn repeated. That sounded familiar. But he didn't know why."Maven, I need you to be still for a second."

The whirlwind had slowed, but it was still there, hiding under Mavens unreadable features. Alyn took all the courage he had, trying to think of his mother, of his uncle, and pulled at it.

He never used his ability like this. It was forbidden at home. Sometimes he and his uncle trained it together. Or he would try and soothe the horses.

It took all the remaining strength the boy had to not just give up. But he was here to help. And if he did give up, his father would be disappointed.

He couldn't leave that boy like this.

With as much determination as he could find he tried to calm the whirlwind, untangle the emotion.

It hurt. It hurt so much the tears stung his eyes again. Something was so utterly wrong.

It wasn't like any kind of feeling he had ever witnessed.

Alyn started shaking, sinking to his knees.

Mavens eyes went wide."What are you doing?"

„Helping,"Alyn answered, staying on the carpet but trying to breathe. There was no way to make this whole chaos all right. Soothe, father had said. Dampen the emotions, his father had meant. Make him deaf.

He had done that once for his father. He never wanted to do that again.

He didn't want to do that now with Maven.

Alyn had been happy in his life. As he tried to think about all the times he had made his sister laugh, twirling her in the sunlight, he let his happiness float over to Maven. It wasn't enough. It was like a wet sponge, soaking up all of Alyns attempt to fix it.

But it did help.

He could see the other boy relax as Alyn let go of his feelings and hugged his legs, shaking.

„I told you I would help," Alyn said. „How are you?"

Maven opened his mouth. No word was coming out.

Alyn kept his eyes focused on him. He felt himself slip away. But losing conscience would only make his uncle worry and his father sure wouldn't approve of him sleeping on a carpet in the palace.

"I-"Maven finally spoke, eyes wavering."I don't know." he muttered.

„It will be all right," Alyn said.

Would it? He didn't know. He was so tired.  
He meant it. But that did not mean it was the truth.

Just at that moment, the door opened.

Alyn saw his father accompanying another pair of strangers. He was too tired to even give them a second glance.

„Goodbye."Alyn managed to whisper, rubbing his head. Mavens blue eyes looked back at him for a second before he left.

Lord Velx grabbed his son by the arms, heaving him up from the carpet.

„Can you walk?" he muttered.

Alyn felt his shaking legs, then he slowly shook his head.

„It is all right, you did well."

The arms of his father embraced him for what felt like an eternity.

 _You did well You did well._ __  
  
It echoed in Alyn's mind.

His uncle did not see it the same approving way his father did.

As soon as they had reached the gates of Rainport Manor uncle Theron was waiting, watching. As soon as the door was closed, something exploded around them- Alyn stood at the end of the stairs. He was tired but didn't dare to sit down.

Uncle Therons fist hit the wall next to his brother's face. "We had a very different agreement. You lied to me about this, Leon."

Alyn flinched.

"You drag your  _sick_  seven-year-old son into the walls of the palace? You let him do your dirty work?"  
He didn't think his uncle could get so angry.

"I wasn't dirty," Alyn whispered, terrified to lose approval. "I swear I washed my hands."

The warm hand of his uncle lay over his brown curls. "A figure of speech, my son. You didn't do anything wrong."

"He did not." his father said. And for the first time, there was not only disappointment when he looked at Alyn. "In fact, he impressed the right people. I was never good enough at strangling minds. And you refused to do it. But the boy has the gift. And he is young. He needs to learn strength."

"I let you be head of the House because you needed to impress Ana's father. I let you keep the children because you promised to care for them. " Theron was a big man. Usually, no one noticed that. Now, Alyn watched him build in full height. He could taste the tension on his tongue. "Do not make me regret my decisions."

"You let me be head of the family because you know you cannot rebuild it." Alyn's father had paced away from the wall, slipping out of his coat. The few servants the manor still had were out of reach. They were rarely close enough to even see the children. His father was guarding them well. "If we gain favor with the Queen and earn a spot in court, I can negotiate. We can move into a better house. We can marry Zella to a prestigious husband as soon as she comes of age. A Provos. An Iral, maybe even, or a Samos."

Names, names he knew, of high houses. Names his father had made him learn.

Marrying Zella. Hardly imaginable with a creature half wild animal and half sunshine.

But that was an eternity away. She was a little girl.

"Take care." Uncle Theron warned. " Someone in Archeon will recognize your petty games. And they will not be as lenient as I am."

Then he stretched out his hand to Alyn.

Alyn gazed over to his father.

_Shall I? Is this what you want? Please look at me._

But the man was lost to him. He didn't look at Alyn anymore.

* * *

„I had nightmares." a boy with black hair said, the voice like an animal creeping through the undertow."But they are gone."

„I have nightmares too." another boy confessed."But most times they aren't mine but my fathers, or anyone that is close enough."

This time the maelstrom didn't immediately consume Alyn. It slowly clawed its way into him. But he would bear it. He leaned against Mavens chair, looking at nothing in particular. Sitting on the ground made it less hard to keep himself upright and sitting on a chair. He had tried it, but failed miserably.

„My uncle says it is because I am vulnerable when I sleep." He hated sleeping. The darkness was always there, but in sleep it came uncalled. It tangled around his body and held him tightly.

Alyn turned his head slight. They didn't look at each other. Lost in their thoughts, in their exhaustion, maybe in worry.

„Do you think...they are gone because of you?"

A warm feeling settled in Alyn's stomach. He was useful. He was something his father could be proud of. "Who knows?"

Many years later he would answer that question for himself. He would look back and laugh at the pride he had felt. Because he thought he was doing good.

He looked back at Maven, watching his delicate face and the brilliant eyes.

„Let's hope they don't return, shall we?"

* * *

The visits were random. Alyn was still tugged in his chamber when his father didn't tell him to get ready. That was all right with him. The more people the more suffering. Alyn was used to the solitude.

When his father forced him to use his power on a person, it made Alyn sick.  
Sometimes, his stomach cramped together. His heartbeat was racing fast in his chest. His palms grew sweaty and his hands were shaking.

Only his father reassuring him made it better. He had to care for his family, hadn't he?

With Maven it was different. It was the first time he really talked to someone his age. To someone that could have been a friend.

Alyn didn't mind taking something from the boys troubled mind. He even looked forward to the times they met, though they never had much time and never left the room they met in.

It was a secret. And his father intended to keep it that way.

After a while, something changed though. Not only, because he remembered where he had heard the name Maven before. But because he met the Queen.

Her presence was brief, but Alyn could still recall the dread his younger self-had felt when he had been near her. His father had bowed deep. He could feel the admiration oozing from him for this woman. But when he looked at her, tasting the emotion she might have, all he felt was something cold, piercing. He felt dread the way her twisted, venomous mind radiated.

His uncle had been waiting for them. He rarely showed himself in public, but Alyn was glad. He kept himself as close to his uncle as he could as they walked away, drawing strength from his warm, calm concern and love.

„She doesn't feel right," Alyn whispered, still shaken. His uncle laid a calloused hand on his small shoulder.

His father looked at him, brow furrowed."Whatever her majesty feels or does is none of your business, Alyn"

„The boy has a point, though." his uncle whispered."Whatever it is you have with that woman, it is not right at all."

„You speak about your queen."Lord Velx hissed.

„She's making him feel wrong too." Alyn protested. what did he do? Did he really help Maven? Why did his father take him there?

His father stopped in his tracks. And Alyn wished he had never raised his voice at all.

„You will never speak about this again, are we clear?" Anger hit Alyns face and he ducked, trying to hide from his father's wrath."You do as you are told, ALYN, your house depends on you.  _Do you understand?_ "

His uncle made a disgusted noise but didn't say anything more. His hand clenching Alyn's shoulder and his seething anger told Alyn everything he needed to know.

„Yes, father."Alyn murmured obediently.

His uncle died a year later. No one told him about it. But when he didn't come to visit, he asked his father. The mixture of sadness and anger was enough to tell Alyn he would never see his uncle again.

„I am depending on you now."His father said, looking down on Alyn's form, crouching in a corner of his chamber, tears filling his eyes."You can be more than I ever dreamed to be. Be proud and hold your head high."

_Proud. What was there to be proud?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will rework the whole story while I hopefully finish 'His shattered grace' the next weeks. Here is the first chapter revisited. Tell me what you think :)


	2. Where children go (reworked)

Cold dug deep into the foundation of Rainport Manor. Windows cluttering angry in the wind, cool air creeping through cracks in the wall. The ruin of once proud worn colors and a glorious house didn't shield its children.  
With Alyn's uncle dead, his father didn't bother to hold up any promise.  
He was locked in the chamber even more often. His eyes grew more accustomed to the darkness, they took every bit of light with the hungry eagerness of a starving dog.  
Sometimes he would sit in the dim light of his anchor, the candle, reading. He lost himself in fairytales, of stories about good defeating evil. Tales of honor, tales of betrayals and wars.  
It was tales that held him warm. Tales that made him eat even if he wasn't hungry, distracting him enough to swallow.

Shivering and alone, the darkness was familiar. It was not the darkness that Alyn Velx was afraid of.  
It wasn't his father either.

As a child, one asks a lot of questions. They try to distinguish the world. Make sense. Find right and wrong.  
It wasn't the same questionary an adult would ask.  
When he looked at his father he didn't ask himself _"Why would my father conduct such a poor move?"_ or _"Why would my father ever think he could survive at court?"_. He didn't think about the way he tried to achieve a reputation. Or acquire money.  
As a child the question was simple. _"Does my father love me? And if he doesn't, what do I have to do to MAKE him?"_  
Well, one change would have been to unreasonably make him. Chain his mind, invade his feelings and imprint the desire to reciprocate the love Alyn still somehow held for him.  
But even back then, Alyn Velx did not wish to be loved because he told people to. He knew that never would have been real enough.

Sure enough, Alyn had always desperately tried to impress.  
He had tried to stride with pride, not to flinch. A good son headed every word of their father. A good son was obeying, listening, and trying to do the best

The last months had been lonely.

The solitude had not bothered him. He was used to it. Or so he told himself. In truth, he had missed his sister.  
Sometimes her feet stomped down the hallway, and stopped, for the briefest of seconds, in front of his chamber.  
He wanted to hug her. Hold her close. And that was one of the reasons he found himself interested in locks.

Locks had always been part of his life. Locks would always play the biggest role in it.  
Locks that kept secrets hidden. Locks that were trying to hold him back. Locks that mocked him because he was weakly and had foolishly believed things to turn.  
It should not surprise anyone that a small boy picked up the interest on locks around the time he turned eight.  
His nervous hands came to strange peace when he picked at the metallic pieces like they were a puzzle.  
Wires and keys, clicking sounds.  
Locks had a purpose. A clear one. Alyn's hands deciphered them. Soon enough, when he was sure his father wasn't around, he broke out of the chamber.  
At first, he opened the lock but didn't dare to take a step outside. He breathed heavy, heartbeat gallopping in his chest. The next time he took a look. The first time he actually stepped out, he almost couldn't move, waiting for his father to storm along the hallway and hurl him back inside.  
Instead, nothing happened.

_A good son obeyed. You are not a good son._

It was true. But the locks at least, did not make accusations.  
And so he grew bolder, each time his fingers played along the cracks of the door, a wire, a blind boy.  
As long as his uncle had been alive there had been a certain reassurance. At least one person cared enough to look.

The children had always been wilder than anything, which was his father's doing for locking one up and letting the other roam too free. The neglect had brought out the worst in all of them. His father had cared that they didn't have knotted hair and too dirty clothes. They still had their lessons. But it was his uncle that sat them down and talk with them, holding their hands, encouraging them. With him dead and gone, everything fell apart faster.

The concept of death wasn't too new to Alyn. He had watched his father shoot a dog. He knew his mother would never return.

Somewhere in the faint distance there was always the looming threat of war. Hushed whispers of the adults in the house, discussing news, exchanging rumours.

But feeling the absence of a person that was good, of someone that should have taught him how to control himself, was different.  
Looking back, Alyn could see how his uncle had not been without fault. But that did not make him any less important or loved.

His father concentrated alone on the effort to show the outside. Impressions were more important for him than anything. Maintaining a facade, as Alyn Velx would learn, was the most important thing. It was protection and it was a well-planned charade.

This well played game continued. With a little girl staying behind, left in the care of some servant with eyes that couldn't look straight into his fathers face, he continued to push the boundaries of his son.

When they rushed through the countryside, Alyn was nervous, and he still felt disconnected and tired.

At the same time, he began looking forward to their trips.

Even with his fathers hands gripping and tugging at him, and his merciless eyes watching, he was much more friendly whenever they returned.

He had seen Maven two more times. Always in the room.

The first time had been tough. Alyn had been weak, tired, bones aching, heart pounding. _  
_

Is this how friends could act? He asked himself sometimes. He was sure he liked Maven. But he wasn't sure Maven felt the same. He rarely looked at Alyn with more than one glance. Alyn didn't complain. He sat next to the chair or waited on a doorstep, watched by a million eyes.

It was not like Alyn would know how to act close to royalty. Even with his father drilling him he wanted to hide most of the day and was too weak the other half.

He wasn't used to someone his age. What _did_ children his age do, normally?  
He was sure they weren't locked in narrow rooms. They didn't have nightmares and headaches so terrible he wanted to separate his body from his brain.  
But then again, this palace seemed as much prison as the narrow chamber.  
It wasn't as small.

_But a cage stays a cage with an animal circling inside, no matter what color you paint it._  
  
The queen had been there. She had watched him very closely. He had thought the eyes weren't at all how a mother should look at her child. Or at any bystander. But they reminded him of his own father. And he had never tried anything but to love his father. And so the eyes were familiar.

There was something else too that unsettled Alyn Velx child heart. Eyes were mirrors of the links to one's soul. When he looked into that blue depth, he saw smart, cunning intelligence. But he couldn't see or feel anything else.  
 _  
_„Your Majesty." he murmured, gazing at their feet as his fathers piercing impatience hit him. He looked at his worn out shoes, clean, but definetely worn out and too big, handed down from someone either long gone or wearing much more prettier shoes. He caught a glimpse of her heel under the swaying skirt as she moved.

The dripping, dark feelings, like a poisoned dagger burying into his head. There was also something else he couldn't identify. He was just so tired. And he wanted to leave this behind. **Do it fast. Like your father told you.**

It was frightening to think that he was the one thinking it. It didn't feel or sound like him.

But another part of him refused to do that.

His uncle had taught him _to heal. To help._

And hadn't he promised to _help_?

It was the first time he wasn't as sure about it as he used to be.

Maven wasn't even looking at him. What had been a whirlwind had become a tornado.

Alyn didn't even try to show any kind of manners. He just went to do what he did every time.

Sitting on the chair next to Maven, resting his head between his shaking hands, Alyn got to work. It was excruciating, frustrating.

His uncle had taught him to heal and to help. But what good was healing if another person made your work meaningless?

Again and again and circles.

Anger welled up in him.

This wasn't right. But he had known that for almost a year, hadn't he?

„Hello Maven." he whispered. So informal. He was sure his father would remind him of his insolence later. "It's Alyn."

Did that even matter? Did the prince even remember his name? Was it as important for him as it was for Alyn? He was not sure.

The headache got worse, as did the displeased feeling of the queen. A figure in blue in the corner of his eyes.

Whatever he had felt before.

For only a second his mind caught a glimpse of a memory, a yearning for his uncle piercing a syringe into his arm and the warm flood of relief.  
„Your majesty," Alyn said, forcing himself to speak. The queens glinting eyes looked at him like he was a sort of low insect. A cockroach, maybe.

His father was as displeased as her now.

„I can't work like this. There are too many people. I need to focus."

He felt her anger. How dare he? That insolent boy!

Whatever part of Alyn that had wanted to be a good boy was gone, replaced by the craving for his cure.

„ Father. You know how it works."

„You better do as you are told." his father said.

_Do as you are told. Do well._

"I always do as you tell me." Alyn said, gnawing at the sensitive flesh of his cheek. It sounded much stronger than he felt. He even managed to look up, without as much as honoring any protocol , staring directly into the Queen's face.

„Your son is not as quiet as I thought he was." Queen Elara said, and the room went quiet, as it was always when she claimed to take the spotlight, Alyn guessed. There was something slightly amused as she regarded him. She didn't particularly like him or even care, he could sense as much. Maybe it was his displayed defiance.  
"He can be very quiet." Alyn's father said, and his eyes burned a hole inside his son's face.

_What are we for them? Puppets?_

For a second, the anger was so big he lost control. His own feelings clashed against the queen's mind.

He wanted to see her writhe under his anger, wanted her composed face terrified.

She didn't even flinch. But the headache got even worse. Alyn clutched his head.

**If you ever try to do that again,** a voice in his head warned. **If you ever so much use your power on someone, I will notice. You do what I command.**

_Merandus are whisper._ He remembered from his lesson, looking up at the lineage that crawled over paper back over 200 years.

_"They are different from us." His uncle had said. "A singer or a whisper may can manipulate you as proficient, or even more. We go deep, deep into the soul of a being. We can get lost easily. We can save and heal as much as destroy."_

Alyn clutched his head, terrified, not able to look at her as she left.„That's what she does to you," he whispered.

„I don't know what you are talking about."Maven answered. And it was the truth.

Alyn stared at him. Horrified.

_Parents are supposed to look after their children,_ a part of him insisted. But then he felt the pressing nature of his own father, and he was confused. Too confused to make sense of anything. He shouldn't even think of the possibilities. Judging and speaking out had taken his uncle away from his life.

A good child , a child that can take the way their family has planned out for them. A noble child. A talented child, ready to bring pride to their house. That child knew the answer.

_We are supposed to...to obey them? To follow their every call. And maybe, just maybe, the reward is big enough to appease. And maybe, they will be pleased.  
_

* * *

The second time was better.  
Another headache, another nervous shake. That was how Alyn Velx measured time.

No syringe and just the voice of his father, refusing to go too close as long as he couldn't control himself.  
The first few days had been rough. He had clawed at the servant bringing him his supper, frightened, so frightened.

He had cried. It had hurt.

Alyn didn't feel like a boy. He felt like an old man trapped inside the wrong body. He wanted to bury himself deep under the blankets like a hurt animal, and just die there.

He had scratched his arms and legs until silver blood stained the wooden floor and the bed.

After some time he had felt better. And then his father had visited him.

Those dreaded visits. Those dreaded green eyes. They'd be replaced by another pair of watchful eyes soon enough.

"You can take a book with you." His father said. "And something you deem important enough."  
"Are we staying this time?" Alyn asked. In his mind, he was already planning wildly, and couldn't decide what exactly was the proper traveling lecture.  
His father didn't answer. He didn't look at him. Instead, there was only a faint relief radiating from his form.  
There was little Alyn deemed important enough. They possessed little. And he, on his own, did possess even less of worth.

_All I will ever have is my life, and even that will belong to other people, holding my leash._  
  
In the end, there was just one book, pages a little faded, and a jacket, with holes in the sleeves. His father waited at the door. And behind the corner, he saw his little sister watching, as she often did. Alyn was already halfway walking down the stairs to the brick yard when a hand held him back.

"Say goodbye to your sister," his father, to his surprise said, almost friendly.  
Zella looked up at him, a little girl full of expectations.  
He looked back at her, a big brother that could never catch her when they played. Too frail and too fast out of breath.  
"See you soon, Zelly," he whispered.  
She waved once, careful.  
See you soon, he thought, hopeful.  
He couldn't foresee, but he would not.  
The farewell was permanent.  
Zella Velx, a small girl with a braid dusted with dirt and leaves, one ribbon hanging loosely inside, waved in the distance, one more time. Behind the iron gates of Rainport Manor.  
When she had disappeared, lost to the dust of the road, Alyn turned around. It would be the last glance of Rainport Manor for what felt like a lifetime.

Nothing in the palace had changed. It still was too overwhelming, with smells and colors that buried inside his head.

And just the same, nothing in the room had changed. Except for the people in it.  
Where Alyn was small, lost, with a jacket too long, hiding the scratches on his skin, falling almost over his fingertips down to the bitten and broken nails, Maven was every inch the prince.  
He was still pale, but less ashen. His back was not as hunched, his eyes not as unfocused. It was the first time the prince actually looked at him in more than a hazy confusion. He was almost studying Alyn. What he saw, Alyn wasn't sure.

For a moment, there was silence.

Children trying to remember the drill of etiquette.

Stiff and carefully, Alyn bowed his head.

"You may sit." Maven said. And Alyn didn't wait. He leaped over as fast as his shaking legs would carry him.

Alyn felt that he was as uncomfortable with this situation as himself. He didn't remember him. Not the way Alyn would always remember. He didn't remember the words they shared, the times he had gripped the other boy's hand, leaned on his chair and tried to take away the pain.

The air was too cold, even in a room that was heated and warm. Something was creeping up his spine, tingling.  
There were men on the other side of the door. They watched every little one of his movements careful. His father, as he noticed, spreading his mind out as wide as he could; was gone.

Everything had changed in this few months.  
The whirlwind was something different. The prince felt...different. Less twisted?

No. Whatever was wrong was still lurking. Deep behind...this..normal feelings, wasn't it?

To Alyn's surprise, he was as worried as he was relieved.  
It would stay that way, between them. They would never be the same. Not as Alyn Velx heart wished for it to be.

Unfolding was a very strange dialogue. Almost as children playing adults, words carefully laid out to repeat.

„I heard your uncle passed away."Maven said, eyes on him.

„Yes, your Highness," Alyn answered, still stiff.

„My condolences."

„Thank you, your Highness." He felt pain pricking on the inside of his chest.

„I don't remember much." the prince said. It was too much revealed already, a mistake of honesty. They both felt the way it curled through them. "But I remember you promised to help. I know you did, didn't you?"

„I-" He stuttered. Something was amiss. Alyn felt uneasy. Or was that Maven? "I will always try to help you."

Would he? This was all...strange. What was that thing in Alyn's chest? Guilt?

„I am very sorry you lost your uncle."A pair of slender finger surrounded his own, holding his hand for a moment. The contact was enough for Alyn's heart to burst. No one ever touched him willingly. Or without intention. "I heard he was a good man."

„Maven..."Alyn wasn't sure what he wanted to ask as the other boy gave his hand a short squeeze before letting go, leaving him behind speechless.  
It was like a breeze passing by. The boy left and as he did, something from him would stay with Alyn.  
A hand touching him willingly, the tiniest display of kindness, a laugh, an answer.  
He didn't know, at that moment, but it was the beginning of something that went deep, weaving into the strings of his heart.

He felt the consciousness of the men, as they surrounded him, just as Maven went away.

„Lord Velx."One of them said, a short,ashen-haired man.  
Lord, Lord, am I a Lord?  
Father is a Lord. I am the first born. But what does the title matter? It commands nothing.  
Where was his father?  
He couldn't sense him. He would not dare to yell.

"Her Majesty the Queen has demanded your stay in a quarter prepared for your every need here in the palace."

„Am I under arrest?"Alyn asked. Where was his father? He needed his father! "Does my father know of this?"

„Please follow us." the man said. His mind was strange..blank.

Alyn tried to grab it, tried to find a way to influence him, to find anything.

To his own surprise, the man didn't waver. Instead, HE was the one to press onto Alyns feelings now.

„You are a mimic."Alyn gasped.

„Follow us, Lord Velx." the man repeated."Now."

Alyn looked at the man. He felt the way the mimic tried to dampen his mind, making him foggy.

He took a deep breath. Then he stood up.

The room was bigger than his old one at home. But it held eerie similarities none the less. The same bed, the dark smell of wood, though it was of a way better quality and certainly not as old. Still, he held onto the that as days seemed to pass by. When he looked at his hand he could still feel the warmth of Mavens' fingers.

After what felt like an eternity he felt the queens mind, close enough to stand behind that door.

He wasn't surprised to feel a familiar headache again. He knew she was clawing into his mind, and though he couldn't save himself, it had a kind of consolation to know that she was doing it.

As pretty as she was, standing straight,ashen-haired and fair, as deadly was she. He hadn't any hope to survive the day if he was to displease her again.

„You will stay here." she said, not even wasting time."You will serve as your father promised. When you are not needed, you will return to this room."

„What am I to do?" he asked, looking up into her bright eyes.

„Help, of course," her mouth curved into a wicked smile.

„Help you?" he cocked his head as he felt her dig deeper.

„My son needs you more than me, boy." the smile disappeared. And Alyn was almost sure he felt something deep down in Elara Merandus he hadn't believed was there. She cared. There was love. A strange, slithering sort of it, but true nonetheless.

„He seems fine."Alyn's voice was steadier than he felt.

„That is not for you to decide." the queen pressed her lips together."You will obey. I am your queen, boy."

And obey he did.


	3. A room in a bubble ( reworked)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyn learns a lot of things when he decides to sneak out.

Alyns new home was almost as secluded from the rest of the palace as his old one. There was,however,a very grave difference. In his home,he had been alone,cut off from everyone. In the palace,as abandoned as this wing may be,there was always commotion,always people.

His head was always filled with various sensations. There was the busy and stressed attitude of the servants. Sometimes there were other feelings, excitement ,and something very physical he couldn't place.

And there was always at least one guard at his door.

Most times it was the mimic. Alyn had never loathed a person more than that man. Not even the queen.

As the queen had promised, Alyn was not allowed to leave the chamber on most occasions.

He still received lessons. But his teachers found him in his chamber most times, and no one ever tried to be even friendly. Courteous, yes, but only with the utmost respect for her majesty that had insisted he was to be kept somehow presentable.

The worst lesson Alyn Velx ever received came from a man named Arven. He gave his frail body one look. Another to his shaking hands and nervous eyes.

"You will never be a fighter," he said, voice dry and eyes hard. "That is sure."

To that, Alyn could only agree. After one round of running, he could barely breathe and blacked out after another.

The only time he was allowed outside, and he _fainted._

It was humiliation at its finest.

The mimic guarded the door oh so fierce.

Skinny boy that he was, a physical assault would have done more harm than good.

After weeks of being trapped in the room without any word from his family and barely any kind of distraction, he decided it was enough.

Waiting for the mimic to leave, he sat on the other side of the door, concentrating any kind of willpower that was left inside him.

Finally, he heard the lowered voices of the guards. When he was sure the mimic had left, he started to stretch his feelers into the mind of the new arrival. He was bored, not as cautious as his comrade.

Slowly and carefully Alyn worked his way through his emotions.

He made him careless. What was he guiding anyway? A boy, green behind his ears.

He made him eager to get done with his task.

He made him shuffle, hoping his shift would be over soon.

Leave, Alyn prayed, leave.

He felt his powers drained from him, but he didn't stop.

It took an endless time, but he felt how agitated the guard grew.

Finally, he left.

Getting the door unlocked was not as different as he had thought.

He had practiced on his own door the last year, whenever he had wanted to see his sister. Who would've thought the queen was so reckless to think a simple lock and a guard would keep her _guest_ in his quarters?

Alyn slipped out of the room into the corridor and was confronted with a much bigger problem.

Where to go? He didn't know a single thing about this place.

It took months before he ever dared to open the door on his own again.

Every time the guards took him away to see Maven or the queen Alyn counted his steps, mapping the sheer endless amount of corridors, stairs and rooms as best as he could.

Not an easy task. Sometimes his headaches were so strong he could barely see his own hands before his eyes. Other times he was unconscious, or so tired his guards had to practically drag him back.

But there also were better times. Some days Mavens mind was almost calm, almost normal.

Despite being a prisoner, and despite the queen working her way into his brain, Alyn found those days enjoyable.

Latching onto Mavens feelings had become an unhealthy habit. Behind his calm demeanor, there was a small part of the prince that was always unhappy. It was like a wolf, rustling behind bushes, waiting for prey. It was always hungry.

Alyn tried to cover that part in a cloud of his own mood, which was, despite the fact that he was a prisoner of the queen and an outcast from society, quite content.

The room at least was a safe bubble. As long as he was needed, as long as they brought him there, he knew he would be alive another day.  
The room also provided something else Alyn had never thought he would have. It provided a _friend._  
It started one day, with a book.

The only thing that Alyn had brought with himself on that cold day. He had hidden it carefully, guarding it like a dragon does its treasure. Sometimes he had stuffed it away between his meager belongings and clothing. Sometimes he carried it around under his jacket. At night he slept with the book under his pillow. Only this once he had dared to pull it out in the room, because Maven had not showed any interest in his presence.

As soon as Alyn pulled out the book, fingers carefully pinching pages, smoothing over crinkles and waves in the old paper, Maven's head whipped up. For a while, he just watched, and Alyn pretended not to notice, ignoring courtesy for once.

"What are you reading?"

Alyn closed the book, holding it tightly like it was a tiny animal, precious and to be protected. "You'll laugh at me."  
That was what people often did when they even noticed him. On rare occasions when he was allowed outside. They stared with pity, they frowned, and they laughed.

"I won't." The prince promised. To his surprise, Alyn believed it.

Maven extended his hand, silent. Alyn sighed. Then he handed it over. Rustling paper, with worn out edges where his hands gripped it tightly often.

"It's just some history book my uncle left me when I was-" He couldn't breathe for a moment, trying to come up with an apologize. A defense. "I took it with me when I-" _Was left here. When my father gave me away. When I came to help you. When you mother told me I should obey._

"My family is erased from most official records since my ancestors have proven to be traitors." he tried one last time. "I just want to know about their faults. I don't want to be a disgrace."

He felt his words struck cords inside the prince. He didn't look up from the book in his hand, and Alyn didn't dare to ask. He just watched a slender hand turn pages, blue eyes flying over words faster than his own eyes ever could comprehend.

"The author of this book," Maven said, with an expression too serious for a boy his age. "Was executed."

Alyn swallowed hard. "I didn't know that, I swear."

"Since you were allowed to keep it, I wouldn't worry about punishment." Maven's head tilted slightly as he studied one page in particular. "It's considered one of his tamer...works. He wrote a blasphemous study about bloodlines."

"Do you want to keep it?" Alyn asked, .

"Can I?"

"I would be honoured, I guess." He laughed, more in relief than in true humour.

The mood in the room took a swing. Something dark and brooding took the place of curiosity in the link they both shared. "Are you mocking me, Alyn Velx?"

"No," Alyn hurried to say. " I wouldn't mock you over a book I have read so many times I can cite it."

"Prove it." Maven challenged.

Alyn gnawed on his lips for a moment. "Should I start somewhere specific?"

" _The battle of minds,"_ Maven decided, fingers wavering over a passage of text. A passage of text Alyn had read so often he could see the letters in front of his eyes.

Watching, that he could. Remembering, that was harder, but this was so familiar he could taste the words on his lips before they came out. He still stumbled and stuttered over his tongue, too slow.

" _Pushed into the void of oblivion, the dance of minds was an...event of great importance to many houses. It is said to mark the final political rise of house Merandus as well as the final fall of house Velx_."

"Not bad at all."

"Should I continue, my prince?" Alyn dared to ask, puffing his small shoulders and chest in a sudden fit of pride.

"I think I can read faster than you can talk."

After that, he felt a little more at ease. Whatever happened outside. In this small confined space, with expensive plush carpet unde rhis feet, and the chairs he knew so well after all this visits, in this small space, all that mattered were Alyn and Maven.

 _What an endearing dream of a child,_ older Alyn Velx would think, looking back. _To dare and hope, to call him a friend, and to be so sure. One could never only be one thing._

**A person was too many things at once. And Maven had never been just Maven, whatever Alyn had told himself.**

„You look terrible."Maven said, looking up from his book for a split second. He was outgrowing Alyn, who was still as small and skinny as ever.

Alyn hummed."You are so charming today, it is a pleasure to be your guest."

„My mother insists on this."

„And here I thought we were friends,"Alyn's finger drummed on the table. Boasting and daring, he didn't know he had it in his bones. How strange, that all it took was a look of those blue eyes and he felt better, despite the circumstances.

„I only meant to give you an opportunity to tell me what's wrong."Maven said face flushed slightly silver in the light.

„There has been a lot of commotion lately."Alyn answered, sighing."It doesn't bode well for my ability to be around so many people, as you may be aware."

Maven put down his book, eyeing the boy across from him. Alyn could only wonder what he was pondering about. He couldn't really tell by Mavens emotions. Maven just appeared to be thoughtful.

He wasn't a sight to behold, that much was sure. His clothes were crumpled from the nap he had taken earlier, and the dark circles under his eyes wouldn't make it any better.

„Your nightmares are back."

Alyn's heart made a little-unexpected jump. Maven remembered something. Something Alyn had thought lost.

"Thank you, but there is nothing that can be done." he dismissed the topic, before turning his head to the window, blinking into the bright sun. He wondered when he had been outside the last time. There was the faint memory of running freely over a yard, followed by a little girl. But it may as well have been a dream. He still couldn't stop from asking. His heart seemed to lead the way.

"Have you heard something about my family, by any chance?"

„I could try to find out."Maven offered.

Alyn smiled.„Would you do that? Maybe we are friends after all."

It continued with a chess board weeks later.

"I need someone to practice." Prince Maven said with the best manner and neutral impression. As if it didn't mean anything to him. In truth, there was insistence. There was some need. Alyn felt it, that he needed to win, needed to get better.

He looked at the board between them, finely crafted figures on the black and white glass. Delicate but powerful.

Alyn bit his lip. "I have never played chess."

 _You'll do it wrong,_ his insecurity assured him. _Your hands will shake and you will do something that angers him._

The refusal didn't faze Maven. He was used to the way Alyn cowered and waited most days.

"I didn't expect you to be a skilled player."

"I can sense when people lie," Alyn said, shifting uncomfortably. "And if we played, I guess I could see through your bluffs. But...I don't think it is a good idea, your Highness. I would have an unfair advantage."

"Then I will have to outsmart you." Maven said and his hand wavered over figures. He recognized the pieces faintly. The King, in the middle. Pawns, in front.  
Alyn looked at the board, eyes taking in the possibilities. Wasn't learning new things good? What harm could a game of chess bring?  
Despite the quiet agreement they held, the boy on the other side of the table was still a prince. And he was a nothing.  
Who was he to deny that request?

The first game was more of a long drawn explanation. Alyn had trouble concentrating on many things. He picked up pieces, set them down, asking too many questions. He hadn't talked as much as now for a long time. Not since his uncle had died. It was almost pleasant.

On the second round, the real first game, Maven won easily. On the third, Alyn had a stroke of luck, when he could feel the rouse of a certain maneuver, and it took Maven much longer to win.

There was some satisfaction on his face when he cleared the board of Alyn's figures. And Alyn smiled as he lost.

_You had patience with me when other people didn't even see I was existing._

Their games became a regular element after that.

The next time he had a mimic free day, Alyn slipped out of his room again.

Nothing suspicious happened, though he was on edge and quite sure he would get caught. He got paranoid. He had a vague notion who was may be responsible for this.

Shaking the feeling off his nervous senses, he was able to move unseen for most of the time. Once or twice he felt people approaching, but he tried to hide quickly. Once a guard crossed his way. He quickly grabbed the mans feelings, making himself as unimportant as he could.

He was getting good at this. Too good.

What would his uncle think of him? Would he be disappointed?

He moved forward until he got to a part of the palace he had never been before. He knew that this would happen at some point. It was not like the queen had taken him on a sightseeing tour. Here was the real life.

He pondered, thinking about turning back , into safety, when he got a glimpse of a mind he was quite familiar with.

Alyn pressed into the corner, stretching his feelers.

Maven hadn't noticed him yet, and he intended to keep it that way.

There was another person with him. From his point, pressing deeper into the corner, making himself small, he couldn't see much. It was another boy, maybe older, with dark hair. There was care in the way he felt for Maven. Maven on the other hand...

The loathing hit Alyn so hard he was almost physically struggling.

He waited until the two were out of reach, chatting, calm and he retreated.

„I met your brother,"Alyn said, resting his head on his hands.

He felt a bitter taste in his mouth as Maven radiated a mixture of jealousy and disgust Alyn was way too familiar with.

„Did you?"

„He was roaming around in the part of the palace your mother keeps me in."

„Keeps you?"Maven looked up, the disgust not completely gone."Because you are her pet?"

Alyn shook his head."Why, your grace, not hers. Yours"

„If that were true," Maven huffed, and Alyn couldn't help but smile a little." you should put more effort into entertaining me."

„I could sing and dance, but that would be mildly terrifying at best," Alyn said. He felt Maven relax again as his slender fingers picked up one of the figures, placing it carefully.

„I will forget you ever offered to sing and dance, Alyn Velx."

The way the prince said his name warmed a part of Alyn he hadn't been aware to be still alive.

„Maybe juggling?"Alyn continued. He tried to concentrate on the game, but couldn't."What do pets usually do for their master, your grace? Being locked in a small room far from the world didn't give me the refined talents and manners one might expect."

A small smile tugged at Mavens' lips.

„I was told, however,"Alyn wavered, hand over a chess piece, before finally making his move." I am not half bad at playing chess. Checkmate, your highness."

Something in Maven's composed face fell with his king. „You distracted me on purpose!"

„I did no such thing!"Alyn laughed."Is it my fault you think about how I would look juggling?"

„Awful, I imagine." the smile was still on Mavens' face, though he clearly tried to look annoyed. It didn't work. Alyn could feel his amusement way too clear.

„I could let you win next time, if that would please you."

„No." his face hardened in an instant, and Alyn noticed the edge building around the amusement. Everything light was replaced by resentment. There was this urge again, the urge to impress people, the urge to be..what..? Needed?

As someone living in the shadow, Alyn was too familiar with this need. If he had been braver, he might have given in the urge to reach over, take the hand. Like it had held his once, on the day his father had abandoned him.

„Never propose something like that again." Maven ordered in a low voice.

Alyn bowed his head.„I am sorry ."

Silence settled between them. It stretched into an uncomfortable length, and Alyn shifted in his seat, preparing to grip onto Mavens feelings.

As he caught himself thinking about invading, he felt ashamed. HE had no right to influence any feeling the prince might have. It had become way too casual to use his power on the prince.

„Care for another game ?"

„Prepare the board, Lord Velx."Maven said, collecting his pieces."And no more boasting about your horrible juggling."

„But you didn't even have the chance to watch me perform!"

„And I don't intend to. Ever."

Sometimes Alyn lay awake, hearing his own breath, watching the moonlight tangling through the windows. He asked himself if there was even a real HIM.

_If you pick up everyone's mood and feeling, do you really have feelings yourself? Aren't you just an empty vessel? A tool?_

The moment Alyn had seen Maven smile he had his answer.

That feeling, spreading through his body? Making his heart leap with joy, setting him on fire?

Alyn didn't know what that meant. But as strange as it was. It was all that mattered.

He had a purpose, had he not?

**You were a fool, Alyn Velx. A trusting, loyal fool.**


	4. Sick to the bone (reworked)

When children grow, they learn. They learn every day, sucking up the knowledge as a plant after a drought.  
They are shaped and formed through that knowledge, and through the people incarnating it.  
In Alyn's case, the circle of people was small- it would never extend beyond the boundaries of his blood and never rise above the person holding his leash. Not until a very long time, that was. No child anymore but a prisoner, liar, lover and traitor.  
When children grow and change, they wonder. They question. They flee sometimes, they lie.  
There was enough to lie about  in the palace in those next years.

Strange, how time can move. Some days like water rolling down through your fingertips, some sticky and abrasive particles, clinging to the skin.  
 _There was always a cloud of fear over the court's mind. Nervous, unsure. Hoping for something...? Waiting, and lurking._

_People can be replaced easily in this world build of glass and lies._

Alyn was on edge with all of them, trying to block it out like his uncle had taught him, breathing steady.  
Being around the palace was hell. He would have traded all just to be back in his home, isolated and trapped in the dusty chamber. Once or twice he begged the mimic to send for his father. He knew the man was listening on the other side of the door, slippery blank mind, and steady breath, but he didn't answer and no one was coming.  
His body took in the worst of all the stress. Where he had been thin, he grew skinny. His hands were trembling, his head aching. Alyn felt too weak and overwhelmed to leave his bed some days.

The official response to any kind of interest always led to apologies. He was too sick, too frail, too weak, to participate in the life at court.

It wasn’t even the worst lie. As Alyn Velx would learn the best lies were spiced with a tinge of truth.  

He was often bound to his small bed, head pounding, pulse racing.

His mother had left him her poor health condition. But she wasn’t responsible for his other weakness. For the sickness that crawled through his head. His fear for people, his incapacity to stay straight and stop shaking when the feelings overtaking him wandered through his chest. She wasn’t responsible for the tired exhaustion of a child that felt like an old man with gout.

She wasn’t responsible for the gloom that overtook him, rendered him speechless and made him hide in a corner. He was driven out and dragged around on those days when he refused to even get up. It made him realize how useless of a servant and son he was. He couldn’t even dress properly, and most days the food stood almost untouched on its tray.

Someone had to feed him when all he wanted was to curl into a tight ball in his bed and die. Leave all of this pain and sadness behind.  
He fed on misery instead of bread. He swallowed pain instead of water. Whenever the dark cloud of Maven Calore was near, all Alyn could do was desperately try to consume it.  
In the end, it was a temporary and painfully slow process of healing a mind, as his uncle had told him. He wasn't sure he was doing it right. He did what people told him. He pieced something together that he hadn't seen whole in the first place.  
He missed his family. He missed his sister dearly. He wondered if they were dead too. Like his uncle.  
No one had told him.  
Maven had assured him they were fine. But that had been months ago. Who knew if the war had smothered his sister and burned down his home.  
It swallowed everything. He hid in the bed, crying and shaking and sorry. Sorry for not being able to help.  
When he looked in the mirror he saw the mocking faded imitation of a child, red-rimmed eyes, and messy hair.

But who cared for things like that when all he visited was rooms so silent he might as well stopped breathing? Who cared for his hair when he caught flashes of feelings, faces, and pieces of conversations on the hallway or from servants. They'd never noticed him if he didn't allow it.

He was a nothing. Everyone had made sure to tell him. All his life. But that did hold up to his advantage. An invisible boy.

Invisible meant just deflecting their interest in him. And deflecting their interest was easy. He grabbed them and he shoved them away. For them, he was a temporary distraction, a flicker in their peripheral corner. He wasn't important. He wasn't interesting. No one should waste time on him.

He was still visible and loud enough for some heads to turn when he stumbled over his feet. But even that didn't mean a thing if he was quick enough to return and hide.

A smart move forward was sometimes a step to the side. He had learned as much in the chess games he more often lost than won.

Of course, even the best cannot escape the eyes of cameras, guards, and sentinels forever.  
"Roaming around the palace." Captain Tyros was less than pleased. His favorite guard, the mimic. His hands held Alyn's shoulder with force. One twist with his arm could easily break it. He knew that. It was more than enough warning for the boy not to act on a whim and try to break free. Not that Alyn ever had attempted to break out anywhere. He always returned, and very fast at that. Scared and overwhelmed, in the end. "The Queen will hear of this."

He expected her to be angry at him. Or displeased. Instead, she sat on her chair, hands folded in her lap and watched him.  
Elara was a radiant and confident as ever.  
He would learn, soon enough, that she always seemed confident. She doesn't care for death as long as she stands on her two feet and sits on a throne built of lies and corpses, he would think and know that it was the truth. As a boy, he was not as enlightened and so he could only feel her arrogance.  
As much as Alyn feared and despised the queen, her arrogance was almost mild, and her way to dig into his head was helping to blend out the nervous shakes.

"And what did you learn, little monster?"  
She called him a little monster sometimes. Sometimes he was a sweet boy. It stood without mentioning that he was hers. Though he jested about being the Prince's pet there was little point in denying the obvious. He could understand the intention behind it. It's wasn't different from the looks his father had entitled on him. When she said it, it didn't sound disgusted. It wasn't endearing either, but he expected no friendliness from her. He realized he was afraid of her very soon and it had stayed that way.  
When he was exhausted and almost breaking down from leeching onto Maven. When he was almost on the edge, from all the minds dancing around him, buckling like a wild horse and pressing against as many as possible in the heat of panic. That was the times he was reminded who he belonged to. That he was nothing and no one. A sick forsaken creature in her hands.  
The last year had taught him that. That and so much more.

"I know how people eat." He said. "What the servants say about the guests. What guards mumble when certain ladies pass. I know stories about important persons of interest on the court."

He didn't say anymore, he could have gone on. Counting steps on marble floors, counting doors along a hallway. Counting breaths whenever he hid away and cowered. He heard complains and whispered words.

Some rumours weren't anything but outward dangerous. About a cut out tongue, for defiance.

Some were harmless enough. A dress that looked terrible. But even those harmless one's were prone enough to destroy a reputation.

He had watched the brightly colored uniforms of sentinels stride by, black guns that would blow a hole in his head at one wrong move.

He had felt something warm in his gut he couldn't place. Something he thought he wasn't supposed to notice or steal from other minds.  
"A creative use of your abilities, alas, a boy as precious as you all alone roaming the halls?" she said. It didn't sound like a compliment. At all. A shiver crept over his spine. "We wouldn't want you to get caught."  
"Will you send me away, your Majesty?" he asked and for a second he feared.  
He feared being sent home. He missed his sister and the silence. But what would he lose if he had to leave? He had never had a friend before. And what would his father say if he was banished?  
He feared to stay in the palace. He feared the rippling waves of anger and vicious greed, jealousy, and lies. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand to burrow himself into the soul of Maven some days too. Was he really helping? Was he healing like his uncle told him to?  
His head wandered back and forth. He was squirming in his seat, not able to hold her gaze. Until a hand adorned with fine tempered silver jewelry took his shaking hand.  
"My sweet boy, why would I send you away? You are doing so well. And you hold so much promise too."  
He didn't move. He just waited for her to let go.  
"We simply have to make sure you don't get lost." She assured him. Her skin was cold and smooth. The silver rings on her hand held gemstones, blue, and a crystalline white, they scratched over his skin. "A lucky coincidence your father was summoned. You will be glad to find family with you again."

* * *

The house wasn't exactly what Alyn had thought he would find. It had a green door. And despite the wooden floor, it didn't reek of destruction like Rainport Manor. Instead, it was clean and sunny, smelling a little of water nearby.  
It was open space. But not so bright and artificial as the palace. Not too far away, but distant and small enough to be a representative of their tarnished house.  
The guards, of course, remained. They followed him as he explored the corners of rooms, opening cupboards and inspecting doors.  
Behind the house, hidden behind high walls that reminded him of home was the smallest garden he had ever seen.  
A single glass table and an old but trusty basket chair were waiting. Without sparing another glance to his guards or the blinking dark eye of a camera that would capture his every move he sat down.  
A small ray of sunshine escaped from behind a thick cloud.  
Alyn breathed in deep.  
Tried to blend out the cacophony in his head and heart.  
Voices from inside disturbed the peace all too soon.  
He felt the familiar brooding presence of his father closing in on him.  
The basket chair creaked slightly but didn't bend under his weight as he leaned to his side. It wasn't much to behold.  
"Father," he greeted, politely, like he had been taught.  
The eyes of his father wandered down his form.

Funny, how Alyn was better dressed, without any stains, and wearing faded green. His father was clad in grey and black instead. Like he was mourning. And maybe he was. He always had been mourning something. Alyn's mother. The loss of riches and influence he had never known. The history that branded him as a turncoat, didn't give him the chances he thought he deserved.  
He mourned the heir he didn't have. A son that wasn't as crooked and fragile as Alyn. Someone healthy and strong.

"Alyn." His father said, looking down, reluctantly.  
Despite the years divided. Despite the burden put on them both, nothing had changed. His father was still bitter and gruesome. And Alyn still wanted nothing but his love. Now it was confusing him, making him hate himself for the silly wish to impress a man that had sold him. He hated the way he turned and twitched, looking up like a plant to the sun.  
Each held distance to the other.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Alyn asked, not standing up. Just letting the sunshine and warm his shivering bones.

"We both know there couldn't be a less pleasant thing for me than to waste time watching you." Leon Velx said.

"How is Zella?" he asked, not giving in to the stinging words. "Tell me about her."

"She is not my son, unfortunately." He just said, snide. "But she is taken care of."  
Did you give her away as well? He wanted to ask but didn't.

"I had hoped you'd cement your position on the court." His father said. "But instead you get tossed away into this hovel of a house."

The rats come to Rainport Manor to die, people had whispered and mocked. Despite the size of the house with the green door, it was clean and smooth. Not rotting to the core.  
A hovel, yes, but a beautiful one with a chance to see over water and streets.

"The prince is my friend." Alyn tried to defend himself. "And I am not tossed away. I am alive and needed."

"Your friend?" His father smiled. For the first time in Alyn's life, he was genuinely amused. "You pathetic creature. He is of royal blood and you are a nothing. How could he be a friend? You are a diversion at best of what you do with his head, Link."  
It wouldn't be the last time in his life he ever was called pathetic. He would deem himself a fool often enough. But now, at this moment, it hurt him so much he wanted to curl together and cry.  
But he couldn't afford it. Not now.  
 _Link_ , his father said, using the word like an insult.  
 _Little monster,_ the Queen called him. _My sweet boy._  
He felt sick to the bones. And no sun could warm him.

* * *

His father was called the beggar lord. He hadn’t understood that. Now he learned the reason why. 

Everything  Leon Velx seemed to own  was a gift or borrowed. Even though Alyn did not know at that time, even his life was only borrowed. He could often hear his father arguing downstairs, up until late in the night.  

Father likes to complain, he had once said to his uncle. At that time it was just an observation. Now it was peppered with the hot tingling disdain of something that gets tiresome to witness over a too long time. 

"I gave her a viable asset with my son. He is exactly what we compromised." He once heard him, voice too loud. Leaning on the railing, Alyn could catch a glimpse of his father wandering around, seemingly distressed.  
"And her Majesty held her side of the bargain when she took him under wing, treating him with the utmost respect and care." another voice answered. Alyn leaned even more over the railing until he almost lost balance. He saw a sleeve, navy blue and white. He knew that colors. With a deep breath, he held himself upright on the railing but didn't try to balance and strain his luck even further. "If anything, Lord Velx, be thankful. "

"Thankful? I still have received no answer about the marriage pact . And my creditors are getting impatient."

_The beggar lord_ , people had said. Alyn could grasp the word now.

It suited his father fine.

Now the beggar lord made a crucial miscalculation. He was used to Alyn and his small circle of servants and family ducking and bowing under his complaints. He assumed he could take over and win by using his ability.

Alyn had expected what would happen next. A part of him felt sorry. Another , not so much.  
Another whisper, Alyn thought, feeling the tendrils that slung around his father. It was a short-lived fight. His father had lost as soon as he opened his mind to invade. From his experience with the Queen, Alyn knew there was little chance to escape.  
"Be thankful." The man repeated. "And keep your child under control."

What he meant could not have been clearer.

_Keep care where he walks._

_Keep care what he says._

_And if you ever make an attempt to break our agreement, you will be sorry._

A cut out tongue was not the most creative nor the most cruel punishment  held in store. Alyn would find out soon enough.

* * *

He was turning almost twelve when he started to realize more and more.  

That his father did not know anything. That he had not to teach anything of value. That he was as **hollow** as Alyn.  

Eleven and lonely. 

Eleven and realizing he had a strange but pleasant feeling in his gut whenever he saw Maven. A feeling he couldn’t place. A feeling outlandish and strange.

Eleven year old Alyn and his father were attending the first real social call that Alyn was aware of. Sneaking around and hiding hadn’t cultivated skills prone to stride with pride. He had given his best to be eligible, eloquent and not fail. But that didn’t change the way he looked and his eyes twitched. It was the first time in months Alyn Velx had dressed properly and cut his hair.   
“Keep care who you look at.” His father said, hands clasped behind his back, a face made of stone.  
“Yes.” Alyn whispered, imitating his posture.

  
“People will not recognise you. They will not be gentle. If they are, be sure that they want something from you.”  
 _I know,_ he wanted to scream _. I know all of that. I was invisible for all my life without you to even care. I know the players on this board._  
I know Samos over there, I know he wants his daughter to be Queen.   
I know the woman in the corner is called the Panther, and for very good reason.  
I know the king drinks too much on such occasions. I can feel the distance. The distaste.  
I know ALL of that and I do not need  you to tell me! Because I am NOT useless!  
"Yes, father." He said instead, keeping his head down.

There was an invisible border he didn’t dare to cross. The border surrounded any human being. He stood beside his father, head sinking slowly. This was a farewell. A goodbye for a twelve-year-old prince being send down on the front.  

Alyn looked over, through the room, from time to time. 

He watched and wondered how he had hoped to be of importance for a moment. He wondered if Maven would even see him. If he cared enough. He could feel the tension rippling under the façade. 

His eyes stuck down on the two brothers, and he remembered the faint loathing and bitter taste he had felt the last time he had mentioned it in a talk. They strayed from family, not the most pleasant thing to discuss. 

There was a brother casting the longest shadow. And Alyn Velx wasn’t the light to make it disappear. All he could do was wait. And maybe, if he was _patient_. If he was gentle like his uncle had told him to be. Maybe things would turn his way. 

_All I ever wanted was for you to be whole._  

And maybe his father was right. Maybe he was a pathetic creature. A little monster, like Elara called him. All he could do was watch from afar. 

He said his farewell the last time they saw each other in the room.  

“I would accompany you if I could.” He said and he meant it.  

The war was gripping him from the distance and crushed him. He imagined being down there. It was like a nightmare. A feverish fantasy. 

But he knew it wouldn’t have changed a thing. It was a pleasantry. Worth nothing. 

* * *

In the months that were to come, he felt even more lonely than before. The world took a deep breath, and Alyn breathed along. Three long years that called him into service. Years of a bickering father, always disapointed, but no longer locking him in. He didn't need to. Alyn locked himself in from his own free will and conviction.

He only ever came out to be called back to the palace.

How strange, that it made his heart flutter every time, with hope, and with something he was struggling to understand.

As for Maven... something had changed. There was energy. The prince seemed to brim. At first, of course, he didn't brim with life.

Alyn couldn't imagine what war looked like. But every time he saw Maven, he knew what it felt like.

But there was something else too. There was light were only had been a twisted maelstrom of darkness before.

It was a delicate light. Frail. But it grew. Alyn felt his heart flutter and his veins on fire around Maven. He hadn't ever felt anything alike, except for once, when he had been all alone, thinking about the prince smiling. But even then, that moment paled in comparison to whatever Maven was feeling.

"Your Highness," Alyn dared to whisper when he felt the guard on the other side of the door grow more and more distracted. "You seem oddly happy despite...your whereabouts. Did something happen?"

Maven looked at him, blue eyes narrowing. "I don't know what you are talking about."

Behind that blank facade of his face, Alyn knew too well the prince was lying. People never learned. It was no use lying to someone who felt you were hiding things.

"I can feel it, " Alyn tried again, more gentle this time. He didn't want to mix his own aching feelings with Maven, not now, where there was light on its own. Precious little light. "Something has changed."

A silver flush crept over Maven's cheeks as Alyn's words plucked a string inside of him.

And then Alyn _knew_ what that feeling was. He knew in that instant he had felt it before, every time he looked into a concentrated face moving a chess piece over a board.

Maven was in _love._ It wasn't a simple crush. It was real infatuation. It was strange and alien to Alyn. There had never been someone outside of his family he had loved. Adults love, the way his father had loved his mother, had been different too. That love had been a steady flame, a candle, flickering but not getting extinguished. Maven's love burned bright light a bonfire. It would consume or die.

It was frightening. It was glorious. It was the best and the worst of all things to come.

"Who?" Alyn whispered. Maven bristled beside him. He grew reluctant. He hesitated.

He wouldn't tell.

_Who,_ Alyn thought, gazing at his one and only friend, _who could catch your attention, bright prince?_

_And why are you so afraid? Why is there anger? Why is there shame?_

Maven moved away from him, and as he did, the light flickered a little, as the prince tried to conceal his feelings. He couldn't fool Alyn. And as Alyn feared, he couldn't fool Elara Merandus.

"Be proud," Alyn said, laying every bit of emphasis into his words he could muster. When he reached up to touch Maven's shoulder, the other boy tensed. "Love is not a weakness. Don't let her tell you. Don't let anyone."

Through the shame and the fear, there was another thing. There was bitterness. Alyn grabbed it, with his last concentration, and made it disappear. For a small moment Maven was free. He was nothing but love for whoever had caught his eye.

And Alyn was content. Even though it wasn't him, and he was afraid it would never be.

* * *

No one called for him. Not the queen. She seemed to ignore he even existed. Which made it even more curious when he heard voices on his door.

When Maven's consciousness crashed through the numb carapace of Alyn's mind, he sat up, only to see the prince move through the door, leaving a visibly angry mimic guard behind.

"You told me to be proud." He hissed. Alyn blinked at him, stunned.

There was anger. _Boiling and deadly._

" What, "Alyn said, crumpled clothes and sweaty, sitting up. He felt so sick and weak he could barely speak. "What happened?"

It was a first, seeing controlled Maven on edge, visibly shaken. His sharp features were pale, his dark hair disheveled.

He had lost something. Was that grief? He had lost...Someone?

"What was her name?" Alyn asked.

"His name was Thomas." Maven said, hands gripping the door in an effort to stand calm and collected.

_No more light. Never more. Only grief and fear and hate._

Alyn's feelings sucked up the grief, soothed his mind.

Make him forget. Make him fine. Make him forget.

It hurt, OH god, it hurt like someone had ripped his heart apart.

He felt tears he didn't know he possessed more of, and he cried, he cried for Maven and for all the things he had hoped and lost.

Then he felt how utterly wrong that was. People needed to be allowed to grief their loved ones. He was wrong. He shouldn't have tried to ease a suffering that had nothing to do with him. Not like this. If he used his power like this, was he any better than Elara Merandus, creeping into minds, shattering and altering them?

He forced his beaten body up, moving towards the door.

Maven was swallowing hard.

_Torn. Torn between anger and grief._

His arms embraced Maven, holding him steady. It must've been feeling like a skeleton was embracing you, for all he was but skin and bones. Maven flinched at his touch, but Alyn didn't move away. He just held the trembling boy close to himself, feeling the grief beat between them.

"Tell me about Thomas. Please."

* * *

There was a hand ripping him out of his sleep, clasping over his mouth. A familiar slippery mind.

"Lord Velx." Tyros said, ripping at his arm. "Your presence is requested."

His father was nowhere to be seen. But that had been expected.

What wasn't expected was the darkness that surrounded him all the way. The silence. The expectations. It tasted wrong.

The queen was the last person he had thought to see, not in the dead of night and not with an anger radiating from her that had the power to make him gasp.

Cool and regal she looked down at him.

"Your meddling has become a nuisance."

"I do what you ordered me to," Alyn said.

"You did the exact opposite. I underestimated your influence. But that will be over." She moved a step, graceful and deadly, ashen hair loose around her shoulders. The mimic guard and another man he had never seen before came in. Determined, disciplined, blank. Alyn flinched back the way they stomped towards him.

"Your father and you." she said. " Have overstayed my welcome."

Alyn felt tears in his eyes. "You can't erase my existence! Not with the prince asking for me, you know he will I am his friend!"

"But I already did. "she said nonchalantly. "You are dead to the world, as long as I say it."

He couldn't comprehend the implications her words brought along.

"You will be no longer interfering, Alyn Velx. You lost your use when you started forming my son's will after your own weak feelings. Take him away." She threw a last glance at him. Disgusted.

He tried to latch onto her, but she was slippery as ever. He couldn't find a way to her. He threw his anger at her. She didn't budge.

Crying and kicking the guards took him.


	5. Kill with kindness (reworked)

Alyn Velx was send to a place he had never dreaded to go, because he hadn't known it existed. If he had, it may have been his nightmare. Tied and shackled up, unable to move under the weight of the metal, he sat in silence. The insides of his cheeks were bitten bloody. As were his lips, from holding back any sound.

And wasn't it fitting he was buried underground in a cell, somewhere in the darkness?

He was dead for the world and now he slowly died all for himself.

OH, Uncle. He thought. If you knew what happened, if you were alive, what would you do? Where have I gone wrong? I just wanted to do the right thing.

_The mind is a delicate thing, Alyn, it doesn't take much to destroy or damage it. When you ever need to influence someone, when you try to heal and hold together, be careful. Don't ever try to push it. Be gentle. Be good. They will notice._

He had done it all wrong in his eager need to impress his father. And to obey the wish of the queen. He had tried , and what had it done good to him and Maven?

He would rot here. Or maybe, he would just end it. The man next to him had ended his life. After days. There had been a struggle. There had been pain and resignation. And then,Alyn could feel his life fade.

It was over fast. There was something relieving about it. One less crippled mind to press against him. He would have cried. But he had no tears left. He was burnt. Waves of emotions crashed against his body. He had grown limp, unable to fend them off. He rocked back and forth with them.

Alyn curled in a tight ball, making himself a small bundle on cold stones.

His warden was a gaunt man, always radiating a mixture of numb disgust and struggle, almost confusion. He seemed to dislike his job. Alyn couldn't blame him. The warden never hurt him. For that he was glad. The man seemed to have no pleasure in the cruelty some of the others had shown.

Cruelty. That was something he learned. Some cruelty wasn't born and birthed. It was grown and cultivated, in places like this prison.

_Bodies touching, hearts heavy. A weight going to crush them._

" _Tell me about Thomas. Please."_

_Tears dripping onto a stained shirt. Skinny shaking hands holding onto a hug, combing through dark curls. The desire to just take the pain. Almost too big._

" _You told me love is not a weakness!" Anger, confused and hurt. And tears, still flowing, as two bodies are close, but souls are far away._

" _It isn't."_

" _But he is dead. And it hurts."_

" _I can tell. And I am so sorry."_

_An old ,tired soul stuck inside a boys body, trying to comfort a twisted mind. Like a leech, the need to suck it all up is big, and it would be oh so easy._

" _I am so sorry Maven."_

_I love you. He wants to say. I know it doesn't matter. But I am here for you. I don't care what happens. Just don't give up now. I can help. You are more. So much more than they make you to be._

" _Tell me about him. Tell me all." Hands still combing through hair. "Tell me about his smile. His eyes. What did he look like? How did you meet?"_

_They are still just standing there, close and whispering. And Maven tells him. He doesn't stop talking. He whispers words. Some make sense, some don't, but Alyn doesn't care. He promised to listen._

_When Maven finally stops, the tears have dried. Tired. But peaceful._

"Link."' The warden said. He had stopped in front of his cell like he sometimes did. Inspecting, Alyn supposed.

Alyn didn't look up. Ripped from memories and robbed of an easy escape, all he did was stare at his hands.

"You are a rare breed this days."

Alyn blinked at him. Took too long to process the words that had just left the mouth of this man.

"What do you want?" His voice was hoarse from not using for such a long time.

"Follow me." The uniformed warden demanded. A gesture of his hand opened Alyn's cell. One of the guardsmen grabbed him. There was nothing in his mind that Alyn could have held onto. He was smooth and round, focused and without any pity or care.

Flanked by the guards they moved down from the cells. Small cones of white light illuminated the hallway, littered with strong and heavy doors and bars, small windows into the dark , where living beings crawled and waited.

The room was clean. An alcoholic sting burned in Alyn's nose.

The man was hurt, but not as worse as the others back in their cells. In the dim light he couldn't see the pale face. And Alyn didn't want to see another face doomed to die.

It was of many faces he'd see, dreaming awake.

"I have orders to let you in. He won't talk."

"He is afraid. But..." determined. Determined and strong.

"If fear doesn't make him talk and pain does bring no results, do your best to make him open up."

Open up? Alyn stared at the hunched and bloody form. He had bruises and cuts on his face. Red. He was a red.

Alyn shook his head.

"Look." His warden lost his patience. "I have orders. Do it. We can make this easy for all of us."

No easy way. This wasn't easy. This was wrong. So wrong.

"No." the boy shook his head. "No no."

There was nowhere to flee. Nowhere to run. Still, with two staggering steps, he turned around, leaping away. The guard caught him before he could venture any further. His fist hit Alyn's face with crushing force.

Thick silver blood was streaming down his nose, hand shaking as he looked down at it. His legs almost gave in. A flash of white pain burned his sight for a moment.

"Refusal isn't an option," the warden said, almost apologetic. "I was told you had talents valuable enough to keep you alive. But I can't punish my guards for serving their purpose. Don't fight it, boy. It is useless."

"Please don't." He whispered, stifled through his hurt nose. A fifteen year old boy scared deep into the abysmal hole of his chest. Begging strangers that wouldn't care for his tears. " Don't make me. I am a healer. I am not…I can't."

Are you a healer? A very nasty voice in the back of his head asked. You were a boy that wanted to play saviour. A hero , you want to be. A watcher you are.

But can an invisible watcher ever be a hero? Can he ever hope to be found?

"Someone will finish this. You can make it easy. Quick."

"I don't want to hurt anyone." He whispered.

" I was to tell you.  _Serve well and you may not stay dead."_

For a second there were no other feelings pressing on his shoulders. There was just the fluttering beat of Alyn's heart.

Those words were not the words of the gaunt warden. That message was delivered clear and concise.

Was it a ruse? Was it a lie? The man didn't feel guilty. Either he was a good liar or just didn't know if it was the truth. And he didn't seem to care.

Alyn bit his lip. Only one way to find out.

He didn't want to hurt someone. Anyone.

He sat down next to the red. The man wasn't even looking up.

Alyn thought about the fluttering hope in his chest. He took away the fear, slowly, replacing it with the swindling little hope, with a calm feeling, he thought about home ,his sister, about the way he had held Maven tight, he gave the man his all.

All the little love he had left. The man sighed, red bloody lips opened.

Alyn Velx killed with kindness. He killed the resistance, took down the walls and suffocated the fear.

He wanted to cry, to give up. Silver blood stained his hands as he curled them into fists.

"Yes." His warden said. "More."

More?

A game of chess. Another loss, but no ill feelings. Because he didn't care if he lost as long as he was not alone.

Truth shared between friends. Laughter and dry ,hidden smiles.

Silence, but the kind that doesn't need words. Chained links on the leash that bound him.

A boy thinking he was helping, clutching the hand of a trembling prince.

All that I am, Alyn thought. I am for you.

A sad thought, but there'd never been one more true.

The resistance of the red crumbled. A tear slid down his dirty cheek.

_You cry for both of us, poor soul._

Then man spilled all of his precious secrets as Alyn's heart made him soft.

Alyn had no tears but as he left, he wept. Silent trembling shoulders, without a voice.

* * *

The next time he was brought into a different room. The man was not a red, but a silver. The cuffs around his hands had cut deep, revealing the colour of his blood.

"Make him afraid." His warden demanded.

Alyn bristled. But the warden was relentless. "No backtalk, Link. Orders. Make him."

And Alyn did. It wasn't hard, and that was terrifying on its own. He had wondered if it would be easy to make someone feel bad. He had never been allowed to do it and then shied away from the thought alone. The times that he tried to smash his anger into Elara Merandus mind had been the only he had willingly lashed out at another living being.

All the days locked up, the fear making the stale air taste like ash. The screams and the stomping boots.  _The next time, they will get you. They will drag you into one of this chambers and you will wish you had starved in your cell._

He made the man fear all that. Panic. All the misery that rocked Alyn's body to sleep.

The silver screamed. Alyn retreated into the back of the room as another woman and his warden squeezed the truth out of him in high pitched screeching screams.

I'm hurting someone. Out of my free will. I hurt someone and I do it to save myself.

Maybe he truly was a little monster.

They were pleased with him.

"You have a gift, boy." His warden said as he escorted Alyn back to his cell. "Use it well and maybe whoever is so displeased with you will change their mind."

"Serve well and return to the living." Alyn reminded him. And he reminded himself.

"About that..." now there was guilt." I do what I can. Promise."

Rare honesty.

A shimmering jewel in the filth of pain and terror.

He smiled at the man. It hurt, smiling. His face had forgotten these muscles existed.

"I never got to ask your name." Alyn wondered.

"No need, Link." The man withdrew. "And I don't want to know yours either."

A name to a face would make it harder to kill or punish him. He understood.

He was The Link. Then they just called him Torturer.

Torturer Velx created pain out of nowhere, shared fear, loosened tongues with gentle care.

Months, passed. More prisoners. His warden was pleased with his work. Alyn was not.

He felt more dirty than ever. His soul had never been clean. Now there were stains as black as the darkness of his cell. There was blood on his hands, red and silver, and it would never wash off.

And Alyn got almost used to the dirty work. He felt whatever part had cared for the other feelings bombarding him wither. Like a plant, it dried up, without care and sunshine.

The face of his sister was a pale formation of stars, more frail than anything. Maven became a far memory, Alyn thought about when he all but wanted to die, after a long day of aching bones and evoking fear and terror. The room had been his universe and Maven had been his sun.

He barely remembered how the sun looked.

The memory didn't bring relief, but it reminded him he could do good. That he could be gentle. And maybe, he would one day again.

He was a fine tool. His warden cared for his food and have him new clothes. They cut his hair.

He hadn't grown much, still more child than adult. Big tired eyes in a face so thin and pale ,the silver veins gave it an eerie shine. He looked like the monster he had become.

One day, he listened , half dreaming with his eyes open, of two hands and a chessboard, jesting about juggling.

The guards weren't afraid of his presence anymore. He didn't harm any of them. He didn't use his powers outside of the interrogation room anymore.

Or maybe, truth be told, it was a torture chamber.

"I hear she is moving into the palace. Betrothed to the prince."

"Which one?"

"Maven."

Alyn's head whipped around.

"Who knew the daughter was still alive? A Titanos, they say. "

"But Samos is still getting the jackpot ."

Amusement. Chattering away.

For the first time since he had been brought here, a spark crept through Alyn's heart.

When there were news, there was something changing. And when there was change, maybe he could gamble his way out of here.

He had served. He could serve elsewhere.

With a snap he shot up, small body slinging forward, shaking hands gripping the bars hard.

"You there," Torturer Velx said, with so much demanding strength he felt lifeforce pumping through his veins. A last act , hiding the pain, before he would leave the Torturer behind. "I have a message to deliver."


	6. Donning a mask (reworked)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyn moves back into the palace.

Thanks to his unyielding loyalty and hard work he didn’t need to wear manacles anymore in or outside his cell. He could almost move freely, if one was to forget the guards, cameras and thick black walls swallowing every sound.  
They swallowed his footsteps now too as he paced through his cell like a wild animal.   
A message delivered, but days without an answer.   
It suited her perfectly to let him wait. And what choice did he have but to accept his fate?  
His nerves were tingling. They were made of spiders silk, cobwebs dancing and trembling. Easy to loose. So easy.

  
„I asked for a message to be delivered." He noted, trying to sound polite. The guard only stared at him. It was another. Not the one he had instructed to do his bidding. They were temporary distractions in the shrill screams of the Torturers life. 

  
_Amusement. Disbelief._

  
„Yeah, well, all the prisoners want that, wait in line." The laughing guard leaned in closer. He wasn't afraid in the slightest. He didn't know how many people had bowed to Alyn Velx's mind. He wasn't aware of the danger.

  
A mistake. Alyn was patient. But after repeating himself, he had no more tolerance for jests left. He remembered a boy who would have retreated.  
That boy was dead and buried underneath his cell.

  
Alyn was strong, stronger and better fed than the day he had come to this place. He had earned privileges, he had served and been praised. There were stains on his soul that would never go off. But with manacles and shackles, voices he had to serve, promises made…would anyone blame a fifteen year old boy when he started recognizing all he could do was serve? 

  
The last two years had changed him, shaken the core of his inner being. The healer had retreated, letting the Torturer take over.

  
This man was not prepared for what Alyn had learned, coaxing screams and tears and love out of human hearts and souls.  
He gave him a little taste.

  
_Fear me. That's right. I am a but a boy behind iron bars, but you will fear me. Men fear monsters, be they big or little._

  
"My message." Alyn repeated, eerie pale hands curled around the bars of the small window in his door,  green eyes shining in the dim light.  
The way the guard went greyish pale, his lips opened in horror, and the way he gulped was too familiar.

  
Hadn't he felt the same the first time Elara Merandus had creeped into his mind?  
Who knew what a dead boy had felt. It didn't matter anymore. It couldn’t. 

  
But even now he knew that it would.

  
"Get my warden. "Alyn hissed. "Tell him I have enough of this farce."

  
"I-I can't." The guards voice trembled. Alyn blinked, the rest of his patience crumbling under the wish to finally leave, to see those dreams he lived in his cell come real.  
What was this power good for if not to help him get out of here?

_Healer Velx, you little monster, not healing anything but the selfish prick in your heart._

  
"Get the warden." Alyn repeated, mind rubbing on the poor man's feelings like the rough tongue of a cat, cleaning his discipline, his calm demeanor, and leaving a rubble of fear and awe.

  
"I can't!" the man repeated. And now Alyn saw he wasn't a man at all. He wasn't much older than himself. Holding his head in clear pain, he started breathing so hard. Just as Alyn did at night, holding the dreams back as best as he could. "He isn't here. Please!"

  
For the first time in forever he felt himself conflicted about the use of his ability. Behind all the apologies and guilt, the line was so blurred it wasn't visible anymore.  
Alyn stopped pressing immediately.

  
 _Healing, helping. This is not the bright future you wanted me to have, isn't it, Uncle?_  
Ashamed he retreated into the dark back of his cell, sitting down in the pile of blankets and little presents his warden had been gifting him.

* * *

Days went by without anyone acknowledging his existence. They cowered away from his grip. Not that he was interested in repeating the poor guards experience.  
One more sin to add to his already tightly laced bundle.

  
When his warden finally did show up, he was accompanied by a familiar blank mind that made Alyns blood boil.

  
" I hear you have thrown a tantrum in my absence." Amusement, but under that, a nervous itch, a shaking confusion. The warden did not approve of Alyn’s actions. And why would he? If his request was granted, he’d loose an asset. If not, he would need to punish him for his insolence.

  
Alyn didn't move as the  guard moved in closer, glinting, precious armor, one of his boots would have been able to feed the inmates for a week. How many red hands had made his precious attire?

Alyn licked his lips.  
“Tyros,” he greeted, looking up. "I assume my request has been granted?"

  
"You remember your quarters in the palace?" the mimic said, eyeing the boy closely. "This time you'll wish you had stayed here in your cell."

  
The thought of the mimic trying to frighten him with a lack of luxury made Alyn laugh. Echoing in the cell it sounded hollow. The sound made a part of himself shudder. 

  
"Before we proceed." The mimic gestured at the gaunt warden, who handed him a flask with a dark yellow liquid. The sight  made Alyn relive a simpler time, of sunshine and warmth, of family and horses, of little boys and tasks too big. “You will understand, Lord Velx, that there's some caution needed, now that you have mastered your abilities in an environment like…this."

  
An environment? Alyn wanted to laugh even more. He felt all the bitterness that had withered him into the shell of the sweet child he had been.  
What was that? Fear? He couldn't read the man, a shame. But this move made more than clear that the queen had underestimated him. Luckily she still needed him, otherwise he would have rotted here, or would have been dead already.  
A last glance to his pile of blankets. Blankets that could not keep his soul warm at night. A meaningless pile of pleasantries meant to soothe and keep him quiet.  
 Then he stretched out his arm, rolling up his sleeve. A piercing pain, a syringe and the grip of two men later he felt numbness spread through his head, slowly.

  
The sun was so bright, Alyn flinched. It was a glorious sight, the light, the warmth, even for the short duration of five steps, before he was tugged in to be transported, and someone shoved a bag over his head. As the numb feeling took over, a never felt high kicked in, and Alyn couldn't stop smiling.  
He breathed in, even through the cloth the air was cleaner and smelled like life.  
As if the mimic could sense his smile, he started talking to Alyn.

  
"Quite a bit has changed since you were imprisoned." Through the bag, the world was all sunlight and shadows. "There were some petty attempts of rebellion by the Red. But overall it's the war that's hurting us the most. Your father would agree if he was still alive."  
Alyn felt his body tense through the haze.

  
"He was killed, were you aware of this, Lord Velx? Poison, they said."

  
What about my sister, he wanted to ask, but couldn't. He just sat in silence.  
First his uncle, then his father. There was a pattern.

  
He had no tears for a man using his own son to gain influence, selling him like an exotic bird. He had rarely thought of the beggar lord. He held little good memories.   
Still He had loved him. Somehow, as children wanted to love their parents.  
The rest of the trip went by in a blur, no one speaking.  
  


* * *

Getting thrown and dragged around was a habit people seemed to have with him. As the bag was removed from his head, Alyn found himself in the palace. Strangely it didn't feel relaxing. The lack of emotions pressing onto him made him see every detail of the room. The carpets and curtains, the plush colors of the decor and the walls. It made him see the chandelier and it made him recognize the beauty. But the beauty was worthless. It was without soul and temperance.  
She was dressed in airy blue and white, light colours, of her respected house.

  
All made to impress, Alyn could only imagine how he looked. Of course he wore no more rags but the clean and smooth jacket Tyros had handed him. His hair had been crusted with sweat. It was clean now. And though he smelled like the soap that had scrubbed the dirt off his nails, he could still feel the stale air of his prison. A stench sitting in his nose. And soul.

Elara Merandus was as cold and regal as he remembered from the dreams. Those dreams had usually ended with one of them writhing in pain. Even in his dreams he couldn’t always win.  
Now he could all but sit and wait. And he did. Like he had all his life and would many days and nights more.

  
"I hear you did well, _Torturer_ Velx."

  
Maybe, if he had been able to feel the pain, the loss and the anger that hid somewhere deep within him, he would have tried to make her feel that too. A fruitless effort, he knew. He didn't try to fight. Not now. He had just returned.

  
He just smiled, feeling guilt of hundred screaming faces nagging at him.

  
"And I also received your message." She leaned a little forward, but still kept her posture. “Impressive.”

  
"I served my sentence in that place. And proved worth. "Alyn said." I imagine your Majesty may have another purpose for me."

  
"My, you have grown sharp." He was glad he couldn't see through her smile. "When you were a little boy, all you wanted to do was to be good, to make your father proud. You were so worried about Maven."  
Being numb served a great purpose when he felt her dig into his brain at the mention of her son's name. She wouldn't find pain. She wouldn't find sorrow. She'd find nothing much, or so he hoped.  
The boy was buried and dead. He had to be. Because if he wasn’t…

  
"I hear he's got a future wife." Alyn remarked, casual. Ah, how had he missed the queen and her way to claw into him. There was something comforting about her efforts now that he had experienced and inflicted true terror for years that seemed like a lifetime.  
He couldn't change anything about the way she worked, he never had. But he wasn't as vulnerable anymore. The fear was still very present. But then again, so was the disgust.

  
He wondered if she noticed, cunning as she was. He was a Link, but she was a whisper. She was unrivalled in her weaving.

  
"You'll serve me." She said. It wasn't a request, for who was the queen to beg a filthy little creature like him? "And if you fail, your sister will pay the price."  
  


* * *

A month was worth a lifetime for someone that cherished even the smallest beam of light on his face. 

A month was a long line of blinking hearts and faltering steps.

This month, the time he would spend here, it would change everything. Not just his longitude. Not his life. This was the beginning of destiny forged and fates intertwined. Although he didn't knew it at that time, it would be the beginning of a long road . HedH travel alongside pain and blood, lies and love. And fear.

The mask clasped around his face brazen and stark. It hugged the sharp lines of a malnourished child, red rimmed eyes that tried to show no emotion.

  
A mask was not unlike a face. People chose to hide their true feelings behind paint and stone like features. But when a face failed, a mask could still comfortable sit in place.   
Remembering his childhood and the roaming through the palace seemed  a lifetime ago. And maybe it was. But it helped to remember. Remember things he’d thought never be important. Things that had made him human and alive once. 

  
Oh, the game was as clear as ever, with the fair ladies, flushing grey and smiling oh so graceful.  
The fighting and the show off, the venom whispers.  
He wouldn’t dare to play. He had seen his father fail. He had seen the proficiency and determination one had to display to move forward.

  
As Alyn moved through the palace with the mimic as his shadow, he vividly remembered his eight year old self struggling under the weight of the court.

  
Following the queen around was even stranger. Her slippery mind was occupied with suspicion and venom all times. He had complied. As long as his innocent sister was in her grasp, he wouldn't dare to provoke her. A tool , he was always a tool for her, she did not think of him as a person.

  
 _Don't cut yourself in the hand with your sharp tool, my Queen,_ he thought, somewhere between amused and angry. One of rare times he dared to be rebellious, and like any other time he would regret it later.

  
He knew she had heard him. Something in her shoulders tensed for only a fleeting second.  
There was pressure on her. There was tension everywhere.  
Clever as Elara was, she dissolved or turned most of this encounters around. And as she kept Alyn around she never let him in range of Maven.

  
From afar, Alyn caught a glimpse of dark curls, a sharp face, of blue eyes with silver freckles. But he never got close enough to feel a familiar presence. He was almost glad for her caution. The mask was the only thing concealing his grimace as he resisted every urge to make a wrong move.

  
He heard them talk.

As the mask he wore made him as invisible , he could feel the rumours, what they thought was real, and what was clearly not.  
But it made him feared as well. Who would impose their selves on a sentinel without the wish to die? It didn’t matter he was as fake as the smiles and imposing attire. It didn’t matter he was just a boy dressed in fiery red and crimson, a boy not prone at fighting.

The crimson made him pale, it drained the colour from him, made him bleed like those Reds in prison. But that didn’t matter at all. A brazen mask hid him. It would hide the crimes he committed and the minds he twisted.

  
There was a lot of talk. There was intimacy, and even love or flirting, and as something Alyn had never really understood, he was estranged from the burning heat in his stomach, even irritated. He didn’t care for affection or physical attraction as much as others. They always had frightened him. And now that he was not a child anymore they felt still as outlandish and unwelcome. He didn’t belong. And so he had no claim to make, no comfort to seek in arms. 

  
The queen kept him around to ease tension, to amuse, to frighten. Funny enough, it spoke for her cunning intelligence no one even noticed her messing around in their heads and lives. He gave people bliss and she fed them lies. It wasn't much different than the job he did in the chamber.  
The difference was that two minds worked better than one, and there were things she couldn't sense, and things he couldn't change.  
It was frightening and brilliant.  
  


* * *

As far away as the queen kept Alyn from Maven, as close was he to his betrothed, Mareena Titanos.

Watch. The instructions were clear. Watch and listen. And report back.

  
He felt the lie fall apart as soon as he was around her. She was a strong person. But she was so uncomfortable and full of anger and a strangely familiar yearning, he knew she was not what everyone pretended her to be.

  
There was something about her that made him curious. He couldn’t say he was enthralled. Or caught off balance. But he held a liking to her mind he hadn’t held for anyone since the day he had left Maven behind.

  
Lightning girl, he thought. I hope you will not get bested and wronged the way I was.  
He felt the pressure on her shoulders. It was the only thing he eased, if only for a bit, when no one was close enough to notice.

  
On some occasions, there was the presence of Maven's brother. Not much had changed from the day Alyn had felt the prince in the corridor. He was still kind, and more complex than people have him if one would listen to rumors.  
But there was nothing to mistake when he witnessed the false Titanos and the prince together. There was an oddly familiarity between them. They were similar, in some ways, and determined. Alyn guessed, strong minds tended to draw on each other.

  
The queen held Alyn on a leash, but not as tight. She knew he was barking, but toothless for she had enough leverage. One wave of her hand would destroy the life of his sister, wherever she was. 

  
Most of the days, he was so tired he fell asleep still fully dressed, head pounding and heart aching. But sometimes, there was a treat. Like one would expect when an owner was pleased with their pet. It was the rare time of peace sought through a needle. He often collapsed on his bed, just staring into the night sky. Reminiscing in images bright and bold. In small observations.

  
Only once was he brave enough to unclasp his mask and walk the hall when he thought himself alone. His headache was grand. It was a tsunami ripping everything away.  
Secrets were rarely secrets in the palace.

But his identity was never even considered one, and so he was safe.  
Still small and quick, he wandered around, mapping every inch of stone and glass and mirror under his hands and feet. There was only his breath and his own heart. He could imagine he wasn't forced in a service he didn't want, to control people he didn't care for.  
The headache made him dizzy, but he took deep breaths, focusing like his uncle had taught him so long ago.

  
Maybe one day, he would escape. He didn't have any hope for the queen to let him go. If she grew tired of him she'd just let him get back to the cell.  
He wouldn't dare to escape as long  as he wasn't sure his sister was either safe or dead.

Strangely enough, he had dreamed for years of meeting Maven again, this was nothing a like with any of them.

Alyn was bent over, almost every step a fight. He wasn't able to hold a gaze for too long.

“Your Highness." He whispered, unable to look away, waiting for any sight of recognition.  
There was a spark in his face. But as fast as it had been there it was gone, leaving a hint of confusion. Justified. What kind of crimson cloaked fool would unclasp their mask in the middle of everyone and dissolve any protocol? Sure enough, it was dark and late enough for the halls to be empty, and Alyn wondered where he was headed. 

_To a game of chess, perhaps, your Highness?_

He received no answer. Not this time.  
He retreated hastily after that, leaving Maven behind.  
For the first time in forever, Alyn cried. But only for himself.


	7. A testimony of character(reworked)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyn learns two new things: There are still kind people in this world.  
> And Jealousy is ugly. Even if one tells them it's not so.

The rain was not so bad. Not if you had been locked up in a cell for years. He relished every bit of sunshine and light, every little change of weather. Little drops caressed the glass of the windows. It was almost peaceful. He concentrated on the sound of the water sliding down the glass in almost silver rows. And then the water turned to blood, red and silver, the glass was a chair in a white chamber, and there were hands curling into fists, senseless cramping. As fast as the image came it went away again. A storm outside wasn't bothersome. His physical form was safe. It was the storm inside people should fear.

The lightning girl seemed to share that opinion as she stood perched by the window, arms crossed over her small body. They were almost the same height and even after all this time with good food and sleep he hadn't gained a lot of weight. Not very healthy, he could only imagine what others saw when he put the mask down. Alyn was a poor judge on beauty, but he knew he would not pass on the standards of silver courtship any time soon. He could recognize marvelous minds, be them good or evil. He felt fascinated by hers, but perhaps that was only because he felt sympathy for her. He kept a few feet distance between them at all cost and was glad the mask made him almost mute.

No one expected him to speak. No one dared to step in his way. It was one small advantage. He wondered what she would think if he crossed the steps separating them.  
He imagined to lean down over her side in a quieter moment, careful not to draw too much attention, deflecting any kind of eyes he could catch with his mind.

"She watches." he would warn her. "And I watch for her. But I am not your enemy."

He wondered how her eyes would flicker over him. If she'd show visible reaction behind her careful attended appearance.  
Would he offer any more consolation?

He had never caught anyone's eye, least the ones he wanted to notice his feelings. But with someone as adequate as a weapon and tool, not even a real human for the little people that did care, perhaps that was perfectly fine.  
The younger guard at his side was not helping his restlessness. He was new and green behind his ears. His fractured caution infected Alyn when he reached out and tried to explore his caution. He felt something akin to himself in the young man. He was here because he had to. He didn't exactly feel whole. Perhaps he had been stationed somewhere else and was forced to do his duty. Icy blue stripes adorned his uniform, blond hair and eyes that weren't quite blue but not grey yet. Gliacon, Alyn thought, categorizing his chances in a fight if it ever should come to it. Not very high. Someone as small and meaningless could easily be overpowered. And then his sister would be dead. Lost forever.

At least Tyros was far away.  
The mimic wasn't to be underestimated and not to be toyed with. He could shut him down far too easily, reflecting his powers.  
They took shifts with him. Clever. He couldn't worm his way into them like he had been able to as he was inhabiting the small chamber in the forgotten wing of the palace. Some habits were better forgotten, and some were purged with pure force.  
The false Mareena was restless, and that restless shifting infected Alyn's mind too. He knew why she was so restless. Today they were both late to their regular attendance.  
His name was Julian. He was the only other friendly soul in the palace. Alyn was never allowed close. The fake one and he always met secluded, shut off, and the way their feelings vibrated and ringed in each others presence was fascinating for him.  
There was a gentleness in Julian, something Alyn recognized from his very own dead uncle. A wise sadness, from old men seeing and knowing too much, not able to change a thing. But that sadness hadn't made them bitter like it had made Alyn. Not withering hate and anger, sucking the life out of him. It had made them BETTER. He admired that. There was no other way to put it.

Julian was a good person, Alyn thought. He knew that without fault, even though they never talked. He was not without anger or negativity, Alyn was quite sure. But what real person was all good?

Only dreams were made that way. Dreams he remembered and relished. Dreams he held onto when his body gave up or he just wanted to toss the mask aside. Open a window and fall, until his bones were shattered as his hurting head.  
He escorted Mareena to the doorstep and left. Well, not really, he was still in reach for their feelings. He bathed in them. Sometimes there was impatience, or anger, or fear, but it never lasted.

Julian's voice was a whisper, barely audible through the walls, but Alyn listened and thought of his uncle, teaching a younger version of himself how to help.  
A miserable fail, as it had turned out.  
Elara wasn't too displeased with him most times. Her thoughts were still venom and ice. Her mind still clashing hard, breaking up every bit of his resistance. He couldn't disobey for his life.

But as it was, the thought of her not being able to take the false Mareena's strength away. And of her not being able to get rid of gentle soul Julian, amused Alyn to no end.  
He was careful enough in her presence. But even a strong whisper like Elara Merandus was not everywhere at once. Since they worked so well together he started to see patterns pop up.  
Alyn was almost content if he could only focus on Julian and Mareena.  
The lightning girl had made his mind more bright. He could never thank her for that. And so he still shoved every bit of calmness and strong will he could muster in her. Keeping her head as clear as possible.

Lucas Samos was a regular acquaintance now too. He stood guard. A bystander not as vicious as expected. Lucas was not _not_ a good person. But he still wasn't as appreciated and gentle as Julian or as refreshing as the lightning girl.  
In terms of his feelings, Lucas was honest but flat. He cared. Alyn knew caring too well. Maybe it repulsed him. Maybe he hoped Lucas Samos was careful enough to not be left bleeding somewhere.  
"Careful," he whispered, a crimson figure hunching beside a doorway.  
His voice was hoarse and very little. It sent Lucas arm twitching. One move, Alyn knew, could make metal bend and flew under the weight of his body.

He didn't receive an answer but only a glare. From time to time Lucas Samos would look at him as if he was expecting to see Alyn grow wings and fly away.

If only it was that easy.

The other tasks were not as bright.  
Elara continued her scheming, her wish for contro

 It was nothing new. She had done so the years before. She made him help, of course. Attach the court, rip the evil sneering rumors and enemies out like weed.  
Destroying was easier than creating things. Healing was harder than breaking.

Some just suddenly saw how gracious, beautiful and clever her majesty was.  
Some decided it was better to make peace. Some were too intimidated.

Others...disappeared.

Alyn felt dirty thinking about the poor lady he had been working on.  
He made her feel miserable. Elara planted thoughts in her head.  
Someday she didn't return.

Turned out, the poor thing had killed herself.

But luckily her possessions went to a distant relative. And her successor was none other than a support of her majesty.  
People in prison had been more honest, Alyn thought.

They had been just as vicious but at least most were straightforward mean.  
He had spent most of his time separated. Especially later when he had earned rights and privileges from his warden. But once a man he had been interrogated multiple times stabbed him with a makeshift knife.  
Alyn still had the scar as a souvenir- he had chosen to keep it. There had been a moment when the air was knocked out of his lungs from the attack. Like an electric shock, his nerves were tingling. He felt a hot searing pain as the sharp object had buried into his stomach. The hot pain grew colder with every passing second as his blood poured out of his body.

It hadn't taken much for him to die. Had been the closest to it.

All that happened was the man getting beaten to death, brutally, by the guards. His screams echoing from the walls as some arms dragged Alyn's barely breathing form away.

 **Too precious to bleed out on the cold floor.**  
**Still value.**

Now it all was games and smiles. And how sick he was becoming of that.

* * *

One day he decided to stay. He let the guard and Mareena go, giving them a feeling of his utter unimportance, and slipped into Julian Jacos room.  
Alyn couldn't recall ever seeing so many books in one place.  
He tried to make himself as unnoticeable as possible as he strolled along the shelf, touching the leather. It were just items, cold and lifeless, and not trying to pull him into their minds. But still, he knew a book could roll over you, and change the way you felt, even your life, in more impact than he could ever have.  
Bookish Maven came to mind. A boy with his pale hands sprawled along the sides of a book with more pages than Alyn was able to guess. Dark hair hiding eyes that flickered from line to line, anticipating.

 _There was almost something soothing when he was occupied like this. The whirlwind of his shattered and rebuild thoughts was easy to access in that moments. They weren't hurting or vicious, and Alyn found it easy to work along with them in those moments. It was healing him, balm on his tired mind._  
_They had bonded over books. Even though Alyn preferred stories so utterly fantastic that Maven mocked him for it sometimes. He read the same pages again, often. He was eager and avid, but with his divided concentration and headaches, he found it hard to finish one book fast._  
_"If books were food," Alyn had said, smiling and watching. He had smiled so much once. Thinking about that hurt him, a thorn stuck in his side. "You would be a very fat prince."_

 _"And you would be still a skinny lordling."_  
_Alyn had chuckled, looking at his hands still holding the same page as at the beginning of their meeting._  
_Maven made a defeated grimace as his hands brushed over the shining cover, closing the book. His blue eyes were taking in the poorly assembled form of his companion, the bitten nails and unkempt hair._

_"Have you not read that book a million times by now?"_

_Alyn huffed. "It's a classic."_

_Maven furrowed his brow very slighty. "It is not."_

_Alyn pushed his chin forward stubborn. "This is my favorite story and I stand by that decision."_

_"A poor decision." Maven decided, head high, being the prince Alyn did not like too much instead of the friend he loved. "The author should have spent more time developing the lore instead of that romance subplot."_

_"You take that back," Alyn gripped the book hard. "Their love is maybe not relevant to the driving plot but it is genuine! "_

_"What do you know about genuine affection?" Maven asked, tilting his head only slightly._  
_Alyn felt the heat in his neck, he couldn't place it. The question left his tongue stumbling. "Very little, I suppose."_

_"I thought as much." Maven answered and looked back at the book in his hand._

_"Let's stay quiet."Maven had whispered, and Alyn took his favorite spot by the window, close by.  
"As you wish." No talk, no lies. Alyn was content with that. He watched Maven read, for a while, studying his friend in detail. Fine long fingers on paper. Concentrated, sharp, curious. And what did he know indeed about genuine affection that he could share? Some secrets were best kept for themselves._

Alyn regretted coming in.  
"I know you are still there." Julian's voice was friendly. It was meant to lure him out. Alyn knew he meant no harm, but still, he flinched, wishing to run.

"I have seen you around, boy. With Elara."

"I am her possession," he said before he could stop himself. It was an automatism, trying to show the world how little he truly meant. Not his story, not his song, not his world. Everything seemed senseless sometimes. With hurt and memories pulsing through him and regret making his tongue heavy. "I live to serve."

"If that is all," Julian said, looking over the brim of his glasses."I am very sorry. What's your name?"  
Someone interested in his name?

 _He wants something, they all want something,_ the suspicious voice in his head , _careful._  
But Alyn knew that wasn't true. There were good people. Julian wouldn't hurt. He didn't want to use him.  
Taking down the mask clasped around his face, Alyn faced him. "Alyn Velx is what I was named. The queen calls me tool. The others see a sentinel. Boy is all right too. Take your pick."  
_What does it matter anyway, right? The vicious voice mocked him._

A pondering second, before he moved closer. As if he knew Alyn was close to running he moved very slow, making his intention clear. "I knew a Velx. Once. Theron was his name."

"My uncle." Alyn said. He wasn't that suprised. "You can tell me he was a good man now. Or that you are sorry he died."

Julian eyed him closely. Alyn wondered if he could see through it all. He was feeling the curiousity the other man oozed off.

"Platitudes get old just as one self, Alyn."he was an understanding Alyn hadn't thought to ever feel. "I barely knew your uncle. But he was a very clever man."

"He was."Alyn agreed, settling on one of the chairs."Do you want to ask me why her Majesty took me in?"

"You are a Link. A worthy possession. I suppose you function well enough in her service. " There was grey in his chestnut hair, and Alyn was so strongly reminded of his uncle while watching Julian sitting down. Today the memories were hunting him to hurt." Your line is not without history. People forgot them, but there was a time when one of your ancestors was almost king."

"I know that story." Alyn smiled, remembering his uncle and his stories and lessons. _Don't let your power corrupt you like it did Cassis Velx. He fled responsibility for the chase of might ._ "There was a coup once and Cassis Velx used his power to get up the ladder. But he was killed by his mistress. Which was a fitting end for a man corrupting people close to him. We are traitors and turncloaks. And no longer virtually acknowledged as a High House of Norta."

"Someone taught you well." Julian was pleased by him, but it was a big difference between the way he felt and the way the queen was pleased when Alyn was compliant. "Purged out of history for the most part. Your uncle tried to restore as much history records as he could."

"Uncle Theron knew his way. And what did teaching bring him? They murdered him because he wasn't pleased with Elara buying me from my family. Gentleness is a curse set upon weak minds."

Alyn spoke openly. For the first time in forever, he just said what was on his mind. He didn't sugar coat. He let the words flow, whatever the consequences. Julian wasn't bothered in the slightest.

"I don't think you mean that." Julian didn't try to press forward, and Alyn wished he could hide his face behind the mask again. He couldn't suppress the frown.

"And you don't even need to read my emotions."

Julian took that information easily without much impact on his still strong curiosity. So he had thought as much, Alyn had suspected that.

"I could make them weep, or cower before me, " Alyn told the older man." But I learned it doesn't bring pleasure to press on other people. I have done it to survive. I will do it again. But how much I hurt and inflict pain, I still can feel I am hurting myself. Which is a shame."

_Far from the perfect picture of a loyal servant. From the best image one has to display along the silver lines._

"If you feel yourself, it is not a shame, Alyn." There was comfort. Alyn sucked it up like a dry sponge. It brought relief. If only for the moment. "It is a testimony of character to understand the weight of your decisions. "

"Decisions orchestrated by other people?"

"You are bitter for one so young" Julian was surprised,and a little part saddened. Alyn felt guilt rise inside him.

"I know. And I am sorry for bothering you with it. I am not sure why I do that."

Julian Jacos smiled at Alyn."What's a story if it stays untold?"

Alyn huffed."There isn't much else to tell."

There was something reassuring to be found worthy enough to be seen. "You have still time to live it."

 _The day Elara gets rid of you,_ old man, Alyn thought, the weight pressing on his shoulders. _Will make the world more dark for a few people._

_Maybe she will get rid of me first._

* * *

Whatever Mareena Titanos was, she was not a silver. Not a fair born and lost lady. That much was sure.

Scapegoat for another plan, Alyn mused, sad. Elara wants you to be shaped, lightning girl. Someday she will see I am not doing as I was told.  
His sister, if she was still alive, would suffer for that mistake. He hoped she was unaware of his doings. She wouldn't remember him anymore. She had been so little when he had left, still a child himself. Robbed of home and innocence.

 _Oh, my queen,_ Alyn thought, watching Elara moving gracefully along the palace. _Do you realize what you do? You couldn't be a worse person if you just murdered us all._  
_A knife on the throat of your son. A knife in our heads._

Her answer was a radiating cold. It hurt his head in the worst way, and he moaned silently, trotting behind her.  
His dark feelings got worse by the hour. It wouldn't take long for him to give in. But what was there to do?

A testimony of character, oh no. Alyn was sure Julian had just tried to be nice.  
What a dangerous and useless dance _.  
_

When he witnessed Maven and Titanos on a crowded evening on the balcony, something in him ached like it hadn't for an eternity.  
She hurt, she was so close to giving up. He could feel it, but with Elara closer, watching, somewhere, he didn't dare to help. And he wouldn't have been able anyway. Too many people, too many impressions. He didn't suffer as he had as a child or during the wartime, but it was too many feelings to concentrate and treat her adequately like she would have deserved it.

He was so tired.

But Maven was at her side.  
A quiet moment of words and touches.

 _Always look, Alyn, always watch. Do you feel that?_  
He did. A bitter taste spread in his mouth.

He turned his back on Maven and the false silver.

The guard next to him, the young one, watched him intently.

He wasn't jealous of Mareena in the sense he wanted the one to be touched.

Physical contact was alien to him. When had been the last time someone hugged him?  
Love, physical attraction, it was weirding him out. The last time he had chosen to support a love Thomas had died. Thomas, that red boy, not even a soldier. Thomas, that flickering bonfire of love in Maven's mind. Thomas. Not Alyn.

_It's someone else. Not you. Never you._

It was devastating. He couldn't have it. He didn't know if he wanted, but how could you tell if you didn't experience it?  
A shell, Alyn thought. I am a shell of a human, filled with dark waters.  
"I feel sick." He told the guard, and it wasn't a lie.


	8. Bullets burning hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Impressions of love are still haunting Alyn, as are impressions of people.  
> Enough is enough. Or is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alyn always seems to stumble upon people to observe. He is kind of the outsider impression , isn't he? I genuinly enjoy writing this. It is good to just follow the red line of the book and tell small encounters coupled up with his twisted cruel life.

Evangeline Samos had the most sharp and whitest teeth Alyn had ever seen. Especially when she sneered. And she sneered often. 

Wolf grin, Alyn dubbed that vicious expression. Clad in metal Samos was a predator, prowling for weak blood along the hallways. 

Strong minded, she didn't take anything from anyone. Cruelty, most people called it. Superioty, Alyn could say. Arrogance, maybe. But knowing the mind of a certain ashen haired queen, Samos was tame in comparison.  

If the world was made of more Evangeline Samoses, most things would have been settled with a mean right and a sneer. 

Silver haired and fair, with eyes as hard as the metal she wore so proudly, she stared Alyn to the ground whenever they brushed each others paths. 

There were few people she didn't sneer at. One of them was Elane Haven. 

Wherever people are close, Alyn thought, they fall for each other, seek comfort. It was still atrocious and sickly strange for him, and he felt detached from reality while bearing their feelings. 

Longing filled his chest when he saw the two young women, arms touching while they stood close together. A sweat yearning for more, and tenderness. It was so sweetly and strangely out of place for someone clad in metal and hard faced eyes, Alyn stopped in his tracks. 

 _Hands touching in love,_ _love ,love_ _, I love you._  

 _Longing, and softness. Bright lights in dim hearts._  

He hadn't recovered from Maven and Mareena, and this familiar and careful entangled women..He didn't know what to make of it. 

Evangeline's hard eyes caught him staring as she strudded in his direction. Alyn smiled behind his mask. 

"Out of the way." Evangeline almost barked, and Alyn smiled even more at her. 

 _Under all that steel you are just a person, Samos. Wolf grin or not._  

"She loves you too." He whispered, leaving Evangeline behind. 

 

* * *

 

 

He would have healed from the ache that all the love and tenderness gave him, in time, and maybe, just maybe, after talking with Julian. 

But instead he met Maven. 

It wasn't like their quiet encounter in the middle of the night, of course, with star light painting streaks on silver freckled eyes and pale cheeks.  

 There was anger and loathing, cutting edges into Alyns skin, and the familiar wish to be needed.  

Something dangerous, something rotten. If he had smelled it, Alyn would have gagged. Instead he was taken aback, like he had just been hit with a fist right into the face. 

Frozen in place, he tried to make sense of it. It was different from anything he had felt the last time Maven had been so close to him. 

And it certainly was something else than the feeling that had ringed from the balcony and his talk with Mareena. 

Maybe it came from someone else. 

Alyn was still frozen in place. But he did not see anyone else. Just him, the guard and Maven. 

Whatever Maven was now. There was nothing left Alyn would have been able to save. There was nothing left of weeping Maven. Had that part even be real? All those months in darkness,all those years  in the palace,   all Alyn had been believed in was a lie.Maybe a part of Alyn had known something was wrong. Maybe he had known all along, in all those years. 

This was no friend. He was not the bright prince Alyn had tried to make him in his fantasy. 

This was a corrupted being, full of brooding hate and anger, eaten by jealousy. Behind this red form the apple was rotten to the core. 

And then, as Maven turned away, Alyn realized something else. He was responsible too. 

If not for Elara, the small boy may have not been shattered. But Alyn had helped put him back together. It was his fault. He had made the monster.  

He had latched onto his never satisfied soul, helped feeding and grooming these inner needs . He had done exactly what Elara Merandus had asked him too up until the day he had refused to heal Thomas loss. 

 **_I wanted to_ ** **_heal him. All I did was_ ** **_creating a monster_ ** **_._ **  

He hadn’t made him whole. He had just mended the broken pieces, and through the cracks the rotting had started. 

 **_I made you. I am her accomplice as much as my father._ ** **_I was just a_ ** **_child,and_ ** **_I wanted to help you._ **  

 **_Look what I did._ **  

That was not the bright memory Alyn had lived off. 

This...was nothing alike with whatever Alyn had hoped to find when he came back. 

It was like he was a child again, working his way into Maven Calore's head, only to help, and to find a maelstrom of darkness , suffocating and endless.  

Something shattered in his heart. 

He hadn't known he was still capable of that. No tears, only cold sweat, hands clasped to fists. 

Anger, as cold as the sweat dripping behind his mask. Trembling and deep, ingraved in his bones, pulsing through his blood. 

He couldn't stand a second longer even remotely close to Maven. Who didn't even know him. 

 

* * *

"You are not allowed- " The young man was almost running to keep on hold with Alyn.His hands gripped him,but all they accomplished was ripping a button of ALyn's jacket, sending his mask toppling to the ground as they fought.

"Give me that,"Alyn hissed, pressing against the poor young man's mind with all his seething anger. The young guard flinched and Alyn grabbed the gun attached to his belt. He stayed behind, Alyn made sure to frighten him good.

Queens quarters were easy to find. He could sense her through the stone. And he knew she sensed him too. She was not particulary surprised when he tore the door open.

Without hesitation he pointed it at the queens head. The guards sprung in motion.

"No." The queen waved her hand and her guards froze, confused. 

"Let him." Elara said, eyes heavy, looking like a cat that got the cream."And leave us." 

"My queen-"one guard protested. 

"Leave."she repeated and it was clear she would not say it a third time. 

They stared at each other, lying in waiting for the next move. Blue brilliant eyes met green ones clouded. Retreating guards, they were left alone in her chambers, plush walls and colours, riches and curtains mocking him. A sense for the beautiful, artifical and fake as Elara herself. 

"You." Alyn said, hands trembling around the hilt of the gun. 

They both knew what he wanted to say. You made him. You made me. 

Elara cocked her head in cold amusement. 

"You think you can pull the trigger, boy?" 

"You are poison." Alyn felt the beat of his heart, his quivering hoarse words."You kill and lie and you don’t even care." 

There was something in her eyes resembling sympathy. But it was a ruse. Alyn only felt her amusement. Her mock. Her cold ego. Ruthless. Twisted. 

"You helped me killing and lying, Alyn Velx. So don’t pretend like you are a saint. If I am a monster _so are you_ _._ _"_  

He wanted to pull the trigger, shoot her, but he couldn’t. His hands were not his anymore. 

She was inside him, filling the cracks, seeping through and overthrowing him. 

He was her puppet. He always had been her servant. Now she even controlled the body she had bought from his greedy father. 

He fought her. But his hands didn’t move. 

Whatever reason had him thinking he could stand a chance? He was nothing. Only she had made him big, strong, had kept him alive. 

Was that her or himself thinking? He couldn't draw the line. 

"You can’t kill me." She said. "I told you. Trying is a waste of my time and your energy. Don’t burn up, little monster, you are still needed." 

Little monster. 

He stopped fighting against her grip. His hands sank to his sides, still holding the pistol. 

Needed. 

Alyn blinked.  

Then his mind snapped. 

With her inside, and all the pain and heartache, he was tired. Of being needed. Of being lied to.  

He lifted the pistol again, but not against Elara. He felt her slip, trying to tumble back in full control in his broken soul. 

Before she could overtake again, he opened his mouth, sticking the pistol right between his teeth. Feeling the cold metal, he didn’t hesitate and pulled the trigger. 

A hollow snapping sound echoed through the room, but nothing happened. 

Elara laughed. 

Alyn howled in pain and frustration. If any sound left his mouth or if it happened only in his mind was unimportant. He had, for once and all, lost to Elara Merandus. 

 


	9. No longer sure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changing perspective into the guard Alyn took the gun from, and which he scared to death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I get to hijack unnamed characters from red queen. Oh yes. Canon characters and Alyn's thoughts next chapter again, promise!

 

 

Vael Gliacon stood, arms crossed, at his superiors side. The older , bald man was as silent as a rock, he could have been part of the wall.

Vael was still mighty glad not to be alone. Watching Alyn Velx always frightened him to an extent he hadn't known he was capable of.

What is special about that skinny, birdlike boy? He had wondered when he came to work his own shift. Green eyes burning hollow, maybe once soft and pretty, in a pale face, a jacket he couldn't fill with the bones and skin that were his very fragile and slender form. He looked more like a child than a young adult.

He had been wrong. Those hollow eyes could hold up an intensity of dark anger that sent shivers down his spine. It felt like staring into the eyes of a dead man. Vael was reminded of the war when he saw them. A pile of scorching bodies, red blood spilled over muddy ground. Smoke and fire, blood and screams. Eyes that asked Vael why he hadn't saved them. Everything returned to him when he saw Alyn Velx. And Velx knew it.

He didn't seem to care though. Vael Gliacon spent his shifts following Velx , Titanos or the queen around Summerton, and he couldn't tell if they were aware of his existence. Velx never talked. He could barely read his body language, and sometimes the other man just seemed to dissolve into nothingness for minutes. It was like chasing fog around the palace, trying to catch it with bare hands was impossible and Vael hated to be tricked. Surprisingly Aln Velx appeared again on his own, and Vael always wondered what kind of trick that was. He knew he felt relaxed and not alarmed, and it unsettled the part of him sure that he should be. Why try to make a fuss? Calmness spread through him, as Alyn Velx moved along him , silent and as compliant as a kitten. Accidents happen, and the palace is big. Nothing happened, so I have nothing to report. Vellana,dutiful sister that she was, and sentinel herself, would have hated his lax attitude. His older sister was no games all work, small but spikey and never bristling. She was here because she was capable not like him, because HE only needed an excuse to stay away from the war. He wondered where she was now,moving through the palace, but so far.

And then Alyn Velx surprised him by showing something other than the bitter distaste that left his fine curved lips be a thin pressed line. He was sad.

For the first time, Vael Gliacon was not frightened of him. He felt only pity and wondered why he always looked so deadly eerie and sour. What has a life to do to a person to make them like this?

Shaped like clay, Vael thought, that is what all are. He doesn't know how much he scares me, and even if he did. Maybe he doesn't want to.

**It was not his fault.**

He wanted Alyn Velx to know that, but he didn't say a word, just watched him intently as he spoke to him, whispered words, for the first time.

"I feel sick." Was all Alyn Velx said, but his voice sent a shiver down Vael Gliacons spine, and not in the way the other one's presence usually did.

So small and tired. Not frightening one bit.

The feeling of pity and care soon was shaken again.

In a moment something in Alyn Velx snapped, and with whatever power he was possessing, he sprinted forward. Hollow-eyed again, he was Vael Gliacon's nightmare, pushing against his body and his soul.

The gun wasn't all he took, hissing and wild.

Vael was terrified. Whatever Velx did to him, it hit him with all his might, and the smoke and the screams were back, paralyzing him, as his struggles died. He had tried to stop Velx, but now he couldn't even move, and breathing became impossible.

Ears ringing, he fell to the ground, something caught his sight, a small object close to his nose.

It was the button he had torn off Alyn Velx jacket.

 

 

Kandro Tyros moved unnoticeable beside him. The mimic didn't think much of mercy, he knew. A waste, he would like to say, Gliacon was sure. The room was so small, it was more of a broom closet. A small slit in the upper half lightened Alyn Velx hunched form, unmasked and looking tired and so young.

Vael was still not comfortable moving so close, but he was not alone. And he wasn't the one to touch Alyn. He didn't even acknowledge their existence.

**He looks like someone who has been robbed off all he believed in.**

He was reminded of his grandfather's menagerie, wild animals trapped, once beautiful and big, fur shining, now dirty and tired, not even trying to break out or jump the fences anymore, just waiting for a treat, circling the small spot they inhabited.

There was a hint of pity in Vael Gliacon despite his fear.

Kandro forced the younger man's body up, gripping him hard. Alyn Velx didn't resist, hollow eyes in a pale face, letting him.

With one hand Tyros forced his mouth open and a small vial of thick yellow liquid appeared in his hand. Alyn didn't resist or show any sign of struggle. He swallowed motionlessly.

The door went close with a distinct shove from Tyros as soon as Velx dropped to the ground.

"Make sure the door stays locked."Tyros said, and with that, he handed Vael a key.

The metal felt a lot heavier than it probably was."You..leave me alone with him?"

"He's not able to do anything as long as we drug him." Tyros shrugged."And if we don't I'll be there to take care. Just do your fucking job this time."

One failure was to be overlooked. Another would cost him his head.

Vael Gliacon closed his fist around the key. "Yes."

"And don't hand him your gun."Tyros huffed, visibly amused by his younger colleague uselessness.

"Ha."Vael made mechanical.

 

 

* * *

 

The silence was uncomfortable. But the whispering was even more unsettling.

Somewhere in the hours after he was moved into his new home, Alyn Velx had crept over the floor, laying on the ground like he had never done anything else. Sure as hell didn't look comfortable.

Vael remembered his day on the battlefront, the hard beds and loud thudding noises of the camp.

He had curled up all the same, and watching a defeated man do the same on the floor of this cell only made his tasks stranger. He hated his watch.

 

 

* * *

 

"Hey."Vael whispered, leaning against the door, careful to keep it closed in case Alyn Velx was to overthrow him again. He wasn't sure why he had decided to break his orders and talk.

I suppose it gets lonely fast.

"Yes?" Alyn didn't look up. "Want to poke a stick at me, now that you know what I can do?"

"What?" Vael asked genuinely confused.

"Or is it personal revenge because I took your pistol?"

"For someone with the ability to read emotions you are doing a piss poor job." Vael scoffed.

He was no threat, Vael decided, moving into the small room, but still keeping the door locked.

"You are confusing an ability with a willingness." Alyn Velx whispered back."At the moment I am drugged to the moon and back. So I really don't care about your anger."

"Well, you should." Vael got on the floor, kneeling beside Alyn's hunched form."BEcause I am not angry at all. I am a little afraid, because you can probably control me in some way. But I don't think you want to."

Their shoulders brushed as Alyn shifted his weight and looked up, dust sprinkled hands gripping his equally dusty legs. His eyes weren't hollow at all, Vael thought.

"No."he finally said."No, I don't want to.You never did me any harm. You could have, couldn't you?"

"My gun wasn't unloaded for no reason." Vael felt a small frown tugging at the corner of his lips."I..Violence is not my cup of tea. But my family thought, after my failure in the war, I needed to go somewhere decent instead of hiding away. And it makes up for a lot of lost reputation."

"I grabbed the one guard with an unloaded gun." Alyn shook his head.

"I know."Vael sighed."What are the odds, huh?"

Vael smiled, and to his surprise, his opposite did too. Absurdity had brought them together, and it made the smiles all the more precious.

 

 

* * *

 

"Tell me,"Alyn said, when he was free again, watching in duty, but seemingly keeping his distance from the royal family present."What do you see?"

Vael shuffled his feet."I am not sure I am the most suitable person to ask."

Alyn looked up, green eyes honest to god. "You are the only one I can rely on right now."

THe thought of that was making Vaels heart beat faster for a bit. Velx grew on him.

Vael Gliacon studied the faces closely."Well, there seems to be a lot of tension in both the princes."

"Oh, I know all about Maven's tension." There was the sour bitterness again, dry voice like sandpaper.

"Is that so?" Vael eyed the younger prince intently." He always seems like the calmer one."

Alyn chuckled at him. "Calm does not mean a thing. Not with a mind like that."

Vael didn't dare to ask what he meant. The thought of Alyn Velx ability didn't sit quite right. It was still enormous dangerous, however, he grew on him.

"I have spent a lot of time in his presence." Alyn still smiled, lips pursed together so tight the colour had vanished out of them. "What about the other one? As bad as his brother?"

"I know the prince. " Vael felt inclined to defend Cal. "Well, at least a little. We fought together. He is a soldier, a leading man, and righteous at that."

"But does that make him a good person?" Alyn cocked his head.

Vael Gliacon frowned."Who am I to decide that?"

"A living person. With judgment." Pale, bony hands gripping the sleeves of his jacket. He looked more birdlike than ever, curious. "I am sure you do have an opinion. Don't fret, I won't rat you out. Just curious."

"He wants what is best for Norta and the silver people." Vael scratched his chin."He is stubborn. But I guess that is not the worst thing to be ...not with the queen and all the pressure. Being betrothed to Evangeline Samos is not a piece of cake too. Pretty enough, but cold as a fish."

Now the smile on Alyn's face looked genuinely amused."You would be surprised."

"I am sure I would.But I am not sure if you are supposed to share the inner feelings of other people. It's pretty intimate."

"Tell me about it." Alyn huffed, leaning back, looking Vael up and down in the most unsettling way.

"What.."Vael started but was thrown off again by the intensity of hollow-eyed and smiling Alyn Velx glare.

"What do I feel when you are around?"Alyn completed the thought. "Not that much, obviously when I get drugged every now and then. But when I do...you smelled almost like fear when we met. You don't anymore."

There was mock in Vael when he crossed his arms."You still scare me, but I am confident I could knock you out now."

"Hear hear." Alyn laughed, dry. "For someone calling himself a pacifist that's a statement."

"I'm not a pacifist." Dead eyes asking Vael why he couldn't save them. He swallowed hard.

"I said something I shouldn't have, didn't I?"

 Vael was surprised how fast he shrugged it off. Even more to his surprise, he nudged Alyn Velx shoulder gently.

"It's not your fault. I'm not parading my most treasured secrets around."

Not in a place like this. He didn't need to add it.

The rest of their time together was silent, but calm.

 

 

 


	10. Realizations

Moving so close to a person you thought you once knew, but never truly did, it was something that would never stop to hurt. Alyn felt it like a stinging thorn in his foot, with every step close to the prince.

He hadn't thought Elara would ever let him out again, not this time, not after she had felt him pull a gun at her and himself. But she did.

And it didn't take long to understand the simple reason why.

She hadn't kept him locked up because she was afraid to get hurt. She was afraid he would hurt himself in his utter devastation.

But now, with Vael Gliacon being friendly, nudging and smiling...whatever they were ...and the truth behind all the hopes and dreams unraveled, she had no more reason to keep him locked up or separated from Maven. In fact, she just seemed to make them meet more often now.

And after her taking over, her demonstration of pure control, she could be certain he wouldn't try to harm any of them.

Defiant was not the word Alyn Velx would use to describe himself.

Not anymore.

Even if he had wanted to. He could not change a grain of Maven's character.

Spirits knew he tried, pressing his consciousness against the rotten cracks of Maven's soul. Trying to find a way to mend whatever he could. The results were all the same. Nothing changed.

The wolf prowling in the dark, the monster rustling in the bushes, it remained unsatisfied. It did only drain his energy off him, giving him headaches worse than ever.

Elara had worked well this past years, as it seemed, completing the work they had both started.

Maven seemed to notice his meddling. Once or twice he saw the head of the prince whip around, locking eyes with him. But he didn't recognize him. And both their inner turmoil did not change a bit. He was suspicious, for that Alyn couldn't blame him.

Help, was, as Alyn had recognized before grabbing Vael gliacons gun, useless. And maybe even unwelcome.

He would shove me away no matter what, Alyn thought. Because he wasn't in need of him anymore. He had the false Titanos now.

He recognized the strangeness and absurdity of being jealous of someone he admired. He knew he behaved like a scorned lover.

All this pain, bottled up, all the tears and the distress. In vain, as it seemed. He had no tears anymore. He just carried on, somehow.

Maybe it was the strings that Elara Merandus had woven around him. Maybe it was because he wasn't able to do anything else.

* * *

 

"You look like shit." Vael Gliacon whispered when they met after his last attempt to temper with Maven's feelings.

Alyn felt the bitter taste in his throat as his mouth twitched into a familiar thin smile.

"Thanks. You don't look like the sunshine yourself." He felt the uncanny resemblance of their restless minds. "We share the nightmares, it seems."

Vael seemed taken aback by that recognition, bristling before giving an answer.

"I don't think we dream of the same thing. Or did you ever pull a trigger on someone?"

"I did more terrible things to people than simply killing them." Alyn said, void of any feeling."Torturer Velx, they called me."

"Well, this went dark fast." Vael put his hands in the pockets of his jacket. His ashen blond hair was tousled, his coat crumbled. Alyn reached up, patting it.

"Don't worry. I wouldn't hurt you like I did back then."

"Reassuring." There was a twinkle of humor in Vaels eyes. " Murder Tales are my favorite bed time story, by the way, so go on."

Alyn chuckled, feeling a strange feeling blossoming in his chest as he continued to smooth Vael Gliacons collar.

"I see how it is, then."

Blue eyes, but not freckled with silver, smiled at Alyn.

"How is it?"

"I got a lot of murder tales to tell." Alyn didn't know where the spunk came from that made him grip the other one's collar."I would be glad to share them if they get me to your bed."

Vaels eyebrows shut up. And Alyn let go of the collar."Whoa. Velx. Are you flirting with me?"

"Forget anything.I just-" Spirits, Alyn, what is wrong with you? All dark and gruff one second and now THIS?

"Because that was-eh-" Vael was still smiling. Alyn turned around. "Don't leave me hanging. That WAS flirting, wasn't it?"

Alyn ran his hands through his hair in exasperation. "I-it's all this love shoehorned in one place."

"Al, seriously, no reason to be ashamed. I just didn't think you were that way."

For the first time forever, Alyn felt embarrassment. And something else and new happened as well. Alyn Velx cheeks flushed bright silver.

"Were that-oh, please. You are making it worse."

Vael chuckled. "All right. No big deal."

"I am not good with that kind of feelings, Vael Gliacon."Alyn confessed, voice and face bare in the most vulnerable expression Vael had ever witnessed. Alyn felt it prouded him as much as it worried him. "It was- I-"

"Yeah, I get it. I see the way you stare at Maven like a kicked puppy. It probably didn't end well."

Kicked puppy?

Great, Alyn thought. Even though I wear a mask people seem to be able to make me out in a second.

Be glad, the inner demons whispered. It is people you can trust for now.

"I wasn't-I was NEVER-" _Lies_ , the demons whispered. _Lies, Alyn_ Velx _. What was is you called him? My bright prince? What did you think when he was all tears and sorrow the day Thomas died?_

"It is complicated." What a response. Complicated didn't hit the mark AT ALL.

"When is it ever NOT complicated, Al?" Vael gave him a last crooked smile, accompanied with a soft sigh." I'm sorry though." And he really, was, Alyn could feel his honest regret." I like you. But I always ever was into girls...so I don't think..."

"Let us NEVER talk about this again." Alyn decided.

"You could tell me about 'It's complicated'" Vael offered.

"Pass." Alyn nudged his shoulder."Move along, Gliacon." _I have to be a kicked puppy._

* * *

 

"Hello, Alyn."Julian leaned close, looking at him almost secretive.

"I underestimated your influence, old man," Alyn said, glad to see another friendly face.

"You happen to have an excellent friend in that young shiver guard."

"The shiver? Yeah, that's Vael. He is a good man"

"Maybe more than a friend the way you look right now."

"It's not like that."

"I happen to know a thing or two about love, so let me disagree."

Love. Alyn shivered in disgust and wonder. "A bit strong. Let's compromise and say attraction."

"It's something considering who I am talking to right now."

"I am glad you came."Alyn said. "Because I trust you to listen when no one else would. I can't tell what, but something is wrong all over the palace. I suspect the false Titanos in it."

"Mare,"Julian said. "Her real name is Mare."

Mare, Alyn tasted her name on his tongue silently. Lightning girl, saving his little sanity left. Knowing her real name finally made her more substant, even if she would never know of his presence.

"Yes, well, she is feeling odd. They plan something. "

"Just Mare?" Julian was less surprised than Alyn had thought. But he wasn't stupid. Expecting the unexpected, Alyn thought. And considering how well he knows the false- Mare, I shouldn't be surprised.

"Maven." Saying that name burnt almost physical in Alyn's throat.

"I noticed they were close."

Close, what a nice way to put it. He didn't tell Julian about the obsessive gripping feeling mixed with the oddest tenderness.

"I'd keep an eye out,just in case."Alyn remarked, casual.

But Julian could feel the change all the same.

"How curious," he said, hazel eyes burning into Alyn's head as he lowered his gaze."You know, I did my research after we talked, Alyn Velx. You have been in the game almost as long as you are alive. I know you lived in the palace. And I know how close you were to Prince MAven. What did change, to turn your utter devotion into this bitter hate?"

"I suppose being locked in a prison does change one's personality."Alyn spat his words like a big drop of spit on the ground." I hoped for years, his name was my prayer. But what did I find? A twisted tree, growing thorns and poison berries under the facade of pretty blossom. So excuse me for not being exactly joyful."

"He is not like Elara, not completely." Julian did not trust Maven as far as he could throw him. Alyn sensed that very well. He was smart enough. But still...

Alyn scoffed softly."No." _He makes me want to try to fix him. But is there something to fix?_

"Time will tell."Julian said. And wasn't that like him? Watch the story unfold? " For now he and Mare are thick as thieves and I am curious to see where that will lead."

Alyn opened his mouth wide, deciding to swallow the words and smiled instead. "The day you end with a slit throat, Julian Jacos, "he said, calm, looking up to the older man."Remember I warned you."

"The day comes or not, and nothing can change that, " For a painstakingly long moment Julian Jacos looked like the ghost of Alyn's uncle, smiling faintly. "my dear boy."

* * *

 

_What was I?_

Alyn asked himself.

_What were you?_

He stared at Maven, locked somewhere between sorrow and hatred. Hatred for betraying the image of a celestial being that guided him through the hell that had been the prison. Hatred for not remembering him a bit. He hated himself for doing what he had done, and he hated Maven for what he would do.

But a part of the boy that was locked in a dusty chamber, lying on a bed, or sitting next to a chair; a boy that had promised to help. A boy that played chess and jested, that held hands with a prince.

That part was branded somewhere deep into his being. And despite having lost all sense of hope. That part _loved_ Maven. Alyn loved the lies, the thorns, the poison berries. Despite knowing the truth, he couldn't help. He couldn't help but bite his lips whenever Mare and Maven were close, couldn't help but curl his hands into fists when he saw them speak, in a familiar way.

 _Help_ , his uncle said, a ghostly image in the dim light. Alyn didn't know if it was the loneliness or if he was going to be completely crazy for seeing the dead now.

Curling into a tight ball, Alyn was unable to help anyone not even himself.

 _Heal,_ his uncle urged, gently.

There is nothing I can do anymore, Alyn thought.

_You were born to heal. To soothe. You are a gentle soul, whatever you tell yourself, Alyn._

"I DON'T KNOW HOW!" Alyn screamed at the ghostly image of his deceased uncle and closed his eyes.

He tried to hide that hurting part as best as he could, concealing it under angry or bitter clouds of thoughts, only for Elara. Succeeding, for now, he waited. For the day whatever those two, Mare and Maven, thick as thieves, had planned, would explode.

He did not know how on spot that description was.


	11. Heat and doom

_A ball_ ,a _ball_ , hushed whispers and rumors, and something eager in the way Alyn read Maven.  
  
A month in the palace since Mareena Titanos- Mare, Alyn thought, correcting himself. Appeared in his life. But it felt so much longer. It felt like a lifetime. It felt longer like his time in prison even, if only because he could sleep some days away.  
  
_A ball, a ball. What is dancing but drawing circles along the floor to the rhythm of lies and doom?_  
  
Alyn tasted the excitement, but all it did to him is making him flinch alongside his mimic friend or Vael Gliacon. He was like one of the horses perched in the barn back at home. Shuffling their hooves, stepping on the spot.  
  
Evangeline Samos, metal clad wolf grin, crossed his way once or twice. With Mare around, she was more vicious than ever. Despite their cattiness, Alyn found it almost refreshing. _At least their dislike for each other is real and true._  
  
_Evangeline Samos doesn't like to be overshadowed, but who could blame her? She was born for this purpose._  
  
She was like Alyn. In a sentimental act, he stretched his feelers inside Samos mind, only to find she did not pity herself a bit.  
  
Strong steel to the bone. She was, strangely enough, the most functioning person in the room. Her steel gave Alyn confidence. And spirits knew, he needed that confidence to survive all the chattering excitement.He wanted to hug her. It would probably have been the last thing he ever would do.  
  
She sneered at him. But in his mind, it was as sweet as a kiss.  
  
Kandro Tyros was parading him through the whole palace, letting him stretch out to servants and nobles, sensing patterns or feelings, making people more happy or less.  
  
Easy with all the excitement. Elara wouldn't want to know her own precious child was plotting something. MAybe, Alyn hoped, they would take the queen out. If that was what all the plotting was about, he would be happy to lose his tongue if it meant success for the plan.  
  
But whenever Elara and Maven shared the same space, there was nothing but a very strange kind of bond, a love that reminded Alyn of his own mother, if not as much gentle and more cautious. It reminded him that Elara was all but human, somewhere deep inside, behind the walls of ice and venom.  
  
Julian was making himself scarce around Alyn, and he couldn't shake the thought off he did it because he knew what they were planning. Alyn was a leak, with the queen prominent in his head, whatever little love he had for her.  
  
On one occasion, Alyn saw Mare dance. Alyn remembered a song his sister had sung, little nonsense about hares and dances. His kid sister was for sure dead or worse.  
  
_Mare, Mare, hopping around the princes like a hare. Take care of your paws, little hare. Where wolves rustle bushes it's dangerous._  
  
There was tension that reminded Alyn of his stupid attempt to pursuit Vael Gliacon.    
  
Oh, Maven would have hated the sight of this. He was sure, remembering the jealous loathing he had sensed when he had seen him with his brother so many years ago.  
  
_Dancing was just stepping in circles, trying to keep the feet away from each other but the hands close and tugged on waists, not too lose your partner._

* * *

  
   
  
"What, no dancing for you?" Vael whispered.  
  
"Leave me alone." Alyn rolled his eyes at the good-natured humor his friend radiated. "You know we will be standing around and get the murder knifes out, in case something goes wrong."  
  
"I was so looking forward to seeing you stumble over your feet." Vael sighed. "You could have asked the prince for a dance. Now that would be scandalous. Spicy. Imagine the talks. I'll take Titanos, in that case."  
  
"She'll electrocute you before you open your mouth," Alyn remarked, imagining the sight of that.  
  
"Oh, Velx. As long as the evening ends with someone flailing on the ground like a fish, I DO consider it a success."  
  
"Thought so." Alyn sighed, hands behind his back, waiting for the queen to appear.  
  
Vael shifted beside him, coughing a little."Do you miss..you know, being around him?"  
  
Alyn stared at him with utmost confusion and embarrassment."Are you really trying what I think you are?"  
  
"You read my feelings, tell me, Al."  
  
"I consider you a friend, so I would heed the advice, Gliacon, to stop." Alyn urged. "Or I will make you stop. As much as I would hate that, I would do it."

* * *

  
   
  
   
  
Lurking around a landing, looking the ballroom, once again, watching was all Alyn could do.  
  
It is not like he was anything else in his life.  
  
Watching Maven and Mare, he could feel something peculiar.  
  
It took lines of talks and hand shakes to make it out. The room was so full of all kinds of jealousy, amusement and anxiety, it made him want to puke.  
  
Guilt ridden.  
  
Guilt for what?  
  
What is the deal? Why guilt, lightning girl?  
  
Maven's conflict was raging even louder in his head, but that's business as usual. Maven never feels just one thing. Maven was a hurricane, but he was Alyn's hurricane, and Alyn whirled along his feelings. Through torn duty and nervous aches, through flinching anxiety and dark brooding hatred, there was still the need to love and be loved, bigger than ever with Mare close.  
  
It was different from Thomas. But Alyn guessed, loving different people at different times...maybe it was never the same. Except for him. But unrequited love and sorrow was nothing to brood around. Not with guilty Mare so close.  
  
Dwindling lines of handshakes and introduction.  
  
So nervous, Alyn could feel it on the tip of his tongue. He wondered, for only a brief moment, what bad thing was about to occur. He couldn't shake it off.  
  
He looked out to his left , seeing Vael Gliacon close, smiling, when things went to hell.  
  
Light zapped out. Darkness frightened the high born. Unlike Alyn, the darkness and the surprise in it were new to them. Guns were blazing close.    
  
A cut,a shot,a pain, death.  
  
Alyn ducked down in reflex. Staying down seemed the smartest option. There was chaos. Vael Gliacon may denied to shoot. He still fought,a knife in his hand.    
  
Alyn hissed, through the red and silver veil that the pain was.  
  
Hot and bright, the explosion blinded him alongside the pain shooting through his body.  
  
It welled all through his head, and he went down, not able to even scream.  
  
"Alyn," Red smudged cheek, Vael pressed his hands again his head."Alyn, snap out. You can do it."  
  
"I can't. The pain is-" Hot, strong pain, burning through his face, his chest, his everything, smoldering fires, burning his very existence.  
  
Panic, making his breath hitch. Too much too fast.  
  
And death, death everywhere.    
  
"Alyn, please." Vael whispered. "Stay with me. I'm here, alright?"  
  
Tears finally flooded his sight, and he broke into crying sobs.  
  
"They are still alive. The fire hasn't killed them. Oh, spirits. They are alive."  
  
"Stay, Al." Vael whispered. "I need to- I will be back."  
  
Then the hands were gone, and the madness continued.  
  
   
  
Alyn lay in the alcove, curled together, watching it all.  
  
Mare was still there. He didn't see Maven...Trying to make out a single being in the chaos that was in and outside, around Alyn, was in vain.  
  
WHY would you? Alyn wanted to howl. HOW could you?  
  
You were important for me, Alyn thought. You were supposed to be the good one!  
  
Cal and Mare, Mare dizzy, Cal worried.    
  
Alyn cried, paralyzed. Where was Maven?  
  
Vael appeared under him, scattering guards and Sentinel, a small tide in a chaotic flood.  
  
This gun, the gun Vael was tossing the prince, it was not unloaded.  
  
There was a fever, angry, searching, wanting. It melted through the panic in Alyn's head like lava.  
  
Hunting fever. And Vael, of course, despite his hatred for war, despite that frail sanity, fighting alongside the prince. Alyn would have valued his loyalty, but all he could do was wail and sob.  
  
He moved slowly, so slowly. First on hands and knees, then getting up. Limping, an unharmed cripple.  
  
Everything to get away from the pain and fear.  
  
A strong arm was gripping his shoulder suddenly. Kandro Tyros, soaked in red and silver blood, had found him.    
  
"Where do you think you are going?"  
  
"To hell,"Alyn managed to whisper."Or worse."  
  
With a frown, Tyros dragged him with him, down the steps through ashes, fighting, and blood. Alyn had never seen such devastation in his life. Not in the prison and never in his dreams. What horror was Vael feeling, reminded of war?  
  
_Supposed to be safe, never truly, anger, fear, panic, pain pain **pain** -_  
  
His chest was going to burst, the longer Tyros dragged him behind.  
  
Down the steps, into the heart of the palace. The dungeon. As someone familiar with prison architecture, Alyn could think which doorway lead into which torture cell. He watched Tyros' lips, pressed together in a frown. Here, beneath the cold stone, panic had faded. He felt the marble will of the sentinels lined up.And the fear and nervousness of the imprisoned.  
  
Careful, very careful, Alyn took his place, trying to breathe in and out, not letting the chaos in his mind show. A hand nudged his own, and when Alyn looked up, he saw the eyes of Vael, relieved, for once.  
  
 The eyes of Mare, Maven and Cal were anything but relieved.  
  
  
  
   
  
 


	12. A bond new forged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huh,what a ride. Writing this is so much fun! I hope you enjoed the journey, and thanks for the motivation and comments! We are almost finished here.

Evangeline Samos was steel and fury. As someone who had lost his family piece by piece, Alyn understood her pain all too well. But even in a ruined dress and smudged makeup she was more of a vengeful power, unforgiving and smothering. Her wailing sorrow was fueling her anger.

Mare looked just as ruined, with silver blood splotched on her sleeves.

But Alyn couldn't look at her for long, for all the pain she had caused.

Now he knew why she was so guilt-ridden. If he had been stronger, and more relentless, he could have talked to her, before all this. Would that have changed a thing?

Once more, he could all but watch chaos and horror unfold. The pain was still echoing in his throbbing head, his hurting hands and aching back. He felt the screams of panic, that had made his heart race, and he remembered, even more, pain and screeching, now that he stood in a dungeon again.

Haunted eyes, asking WHY? As he made them peaceful, hurting, crying. Torturer Velx, never again. But what did it change he wasn't the one holding the weapon anymore if he still watched? And didn't say a thing?

Mare was still important to something in him, if only because he had wished her strength so many times. The guilt did only show him she wasn't fond of violence.

Her resolve was something else all the same.

You could have gone to the queen. A voice whispered. She would listen for sure.

Not with Maven in the pot too.

A part of Alyn bristled at just the thought of that

Speaking of which...

Something in Alyn's body felt less heavy. Maven didn't seem to share that relief. Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds, and Alyn could have sworn there was a flicker of something.

Recognition, but that means nothing. I am just a minion he recognizes from all the hours watching and lurking around.

 _I knew a boy once_...he heard Maven's words in the hallway, but in his tired mind, hopelessly trying to stay calm, it didn't help.

He was glad the prince was safe. If nothing else, the boy whispering a name in the darkness was satisfied.

Conflicted as always. Alyn was surprised to find Maven fighting to stay as calm as Alyn was himself.

It all came crashing down.

The tension was so thick, it could have been sliced with a knife.

Maven's brother, oh, there was the molten core of fever again, the still hot lava, steady slow wrath.

The presence of the king was something new. He wasn't as familiar as the other's, but he was, much as his oldest son, not pleased, to put it mildly.

What have you brought upon yourself? Alyn thought, blinking at Mare and Maven.

The prisoners were all torn and bloody, ragged. Red blood dark in the light, there was a union of strength and stubbornness.

A cause, a cause, something in Alyn could identify the feeling. It was not hard to see these people belonged to the Scarlet Guard.

However shut off Alyn had been, rumors and stories about rebellion had reached him, as he wandered through a place filled with red servants.

Oh, they had been careful. He could only imagine the punishment for a servant talking like that.

Whatever the punishment for a talking servant was. These people would have it worse.

He knew too well. Interrogation, torture, call it as you want to.

In the end, there were only a few options.

Either one would crack, and it would bring them all down. Or they would all die.

How could you, the others would scream and damn the one who had talked.

_We trusted you!_

Oh, Alyn had seen it all before.

Red blood crusted on lips and heads. Severed fingers and torture brought down upon them by silver guards.

That was why you shouldn't tell other people too much, wasn't it? the pragmatic part of Alyn had asked himself everytime he loosened the tongue of one, just to hear him spill the secrets of his loved one.

If I ever get tortured, Alyn decided there and then, I will bite off my tongue, and I will kill myself, fast.

He hadn't known how often people died for the noble cause of protecting their loved ones back then. But he learned very fast.

They hanged themselves in their cells, they insulted their guards until they beat them, they did anything to escape their cells and the people that wanted to make them spills their secrets.

So, no happy end, Alyn supposed, fighting to keep his composure.

He brushed against Maven's mind, feeling the same fight, but for different reasons.

Alyn decided to cling to something that was not going to be destroyed. He clung to the marble minds of the sentinels. He wanted to run away.

All he did was sigh silently behind trembling fists and shaking breaths.

He wondered where Elara was.

Not that he missed her.

But she wasn't one to let a thing like this go.

The attack and sudden violence must have had thrown her off track too. Occupied. At least she hadn't called him at her side.

But Tyros, mimic bastard, had taken him all the same.

And hell it was, as he watched the anger and the sorrow unfold.

Poor Mare was too close to the edge to see something else than her crumbling hope, fighting to keep it up. The blood on her sleeves, be it silver or red, made Alyn still feel hollow pain. But his sense had returned, and the dungeon was a place that reminded him of all the wrong and guilt he had on his shoulders. Who was he to judge?

He knew only tiny pieces of a picture very big.

Samos was snarling, but she was disciplined, and despite her anger and her clear willingness to rip the metal surrounding her to shreds and kill the red all, she did not.

And then, the game began, again. It was a different one than the one he had played in the palace, but oh so familiar.

"Sentinel Gliacon," the prince said, and Alyn was not ready to let Vael go. He didn't need to, luckily. His eyes were on another Gliacon,grey-eyed. Vael has family here? Alyn hadn't considered that, but he felt Vael tense in the way the prince regarded the woman. "I find myself in need of some ice."

Oh, Alyn felt the tenseness in Prince Tiberias shoulders, but he also felt the molten lava and remembered what Vael had said about the prince.

He would go through with it.

You can never please everyone, Alyn thought, sensing Mare's anger, sharp like a pin pricking his skin.

Spirits , no one knew that lecture better than Alyn Velx.

In the end, what mattered most?

Alyn had seen freezing blood before. He didn't feel the need to ever watch it again.

Stretching his crippled feelers, maneuvring through the horror and pain, through Mare's inner gasping and Vael's worry for his kin, he ended with something once well known.

Maven was as familiar with the procedure as Alyn, and through the whirlwind, there was regret and resentment. As strange as it was, for Alyn it felt good. Better than the anger, better than the pain.

It was a mirrored image of his own sorrow, and it gave him hope.

He had misjudged Maven Calore.

The woman would not talk. Alyn knew it as much as Mare. Vael's sister was continuing her job. If his warden had urged him to break that one, Alyn would have just shaken his head. Another may crack. This one never. Alyn had known few red in his life. Most of them had died, sentenced by his hands. The strong mind and the energy pulsing through this people was more than he ever had felt.

_A cause, a cause. Admired strength. United._

I am so sorry, Alyn thought. And he was.

There was pain inflicted on every side, and he knew he was not enough to heal any of it. Scars, always tore open, red blood spilled over it.

Maybe Mare and Maven had meant well.

People can kill and do that. Mean well.

**THEY ARE ALIVE AND IT BURNS.**

_The blood of this red woman is burning all the same._

Alyn clenched his teeth, returning his focus to something new, approaching.

Evangeline Samos was brimming with relief and joy, through a tired mind, as her brother approached.

A small victory for someone, at last, Alyn thought, turning away from Ptolemus gruesome anger, his wish, NEED to protect his sister.

In the end, Maven, bright prince he was, did the decisionmaking.

There was the urge again, impress, and do what you are good at.

We played chess once, Alyn thought. Now you move your brother and father over the board.

Ah, he knew it all. Alyn retreated from their link, shutting Maven off, or trying, at least. There had been the care for Mare again. He didn't need to feel that grip. No thank you.

He was glad when they left. Dungeons and torture. Pain.

It was nowhere safe. And regret and sorrow where the air everyone was breathing.

Alyn was sure one of the Scarlet guard would crack soon enough.

* * *

 

Another encounter in a dark hallway shielded from cameras after the most exhausting day. Alyn still felt weak on his feet as he trudged along, all alone. But not truly alone. Not with the nauseous agony of panic and fear, making the air taste stale and the world blurry.

On his way, somewhere, he wasn't the only one. In the still wreaking unorganized chaos, a prince had made himself slip along the corridor.  
That they met was something none of them seemingly had thought about.  
Stopping in his tracks, Maven watched him.  
Alyn had unclasped the mask.

He could only guess what Maven saw.  
When none of them spoke, Alyn decided to.

"I saw the way you looked at me during the interrogation, "Alyn whispered. Maven frowned, only slightly. But on the inside, there was a flare of something almost resembling shame.

"You remember me." Alyn felt his heart leap in his chest, jumping in a way he didn't know.

"You're Alyn Velx. And we-" something flickered in blue eyes, and for a second Alyn felt as if someone had given him a static shock. "You-were my friend."

There was still confusion in MAven. As if he wondered how he could have ever forgotten.

"I was."Alyn bit the inside of his cheek hard."I still want to be."

They stared at each other for what seemed to be an eternity. Alyn wondered what Maven saw. The circles around his eyes, the lines of sorrow, or maybe, nothing of all that.

There was something building in Alyn's stomach, making his hands sweaty and his head dizzy the longer the silence grew.

Maven made a step toward him, and Alyn almost flinched.

"Then be my friend." His eyes were adding a lot of weight to his words. _I am in need of a friend...after what happened._

A slender pale hand, extended, in Alyn's direction.

Alyn felt something ache inside him when he gripped it, like a life saving wooden plank in the open sea.

I was wrong, wrong, bitter, dumb Alyn. There was something else. He had felt it before. But now it was directed at him, and whatever conflicted soul was pushed in Maven Calore's body, maybe he still had a chance, maybe, if Alyn would know HOW-

"I thought you were dead. That night in the hallway...You could have said something."

"I tried, your grace." Alyn shrugged. "But I wasn't myself back then...and I hadn't anticipated to ever meet you again."

Gripping onto each others hand, it was something else. It was almost like a struggle because none of them made the attempt to let go.

Alyn certainly didn't want to. Not now. His other hand clasped around Maven's, savoring voluntary human touch. Savouring a feeling of warmth that spread through his arm where their skin met.

"I need to know something," Alyn said, and the urge made something in Maven's concentration topple. "And please don't lie. You know I am good at recognizing lies."

"Ask away, Lord Velx,"Maven said, uncomfortable. Alyn felt him brace himself.

"Why kill those people? You and Mare...I can't understand..you inflicted so much pain."

MARE. Alarm flared through Alyn's connection, and Maven cut off their contact, freeing his hand and averting his gaze.

"I shouldn't be surprised you know about her."

"I know very little," Alyn reassured." but I am not ás secluded as people think."

"It didn't go as planned," was all Maven said, arms crossed, eyes frowning.

"I suspected as much." Alyn agreed.

The bigger picture, Alyn Velx recognized, meant, that sometimes you had to trust people around you and lean out of the window very much.

He was willing to lean out of that window. If only to have faith in Maven.

There was a heart wrenching anxiety in Maven, something Alyn wanted to cure, just to hold him, and tell him it was all right.

Of course, after the booming words of the king, nothing would ever be all right.

"No, don't tell me. Your mother could ask questions I can't deny answering."

Alyn didn't need to read emotions to see how uncomfortable Maven grew under his gaze.

"I'm not judging you."Alyn promised."I tried to, this past month. I see how wrong that was now. "

A small dry chuckle escaped Alyn's lips. Maven's clenched jaw relaxed.

At ease, your grace, Alyn thought. Instead of trying to press his mind against Maven, he was the one to reach out now, touching his shoulder, as careful and gentle as he could.

"This day was very long. Might as well try to rest."

"When did we trade places?" Maven regarded him with a hint of amusement, a joke, shared between old acquaintances."For you to be the smart one now?"

"When a fat prince read all his books, a skinny lordling explored other wells of wisdom." Alyn retorted, bowing in mock."In the end, your grace, I may have learned a thing or two and can brag. Still no juggling, though."

"The one thing I was so eager to see." Maven shook his head slightly, and for the first time in forever, Alyn couldn't hold the vibrating joy back that made his smile almost hurt.

Please don't forget me again, Alyn thought as he watched Maven turn.

_And whatever you do...don't let me be wrong._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pssht,kids,you up for some angst? Right around the corner.


	13. Farewell, gentle souls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will rewrite this soon. It's not to my liking at all and so short.

The night had brought the most curious things.  
  
Alyn didn't know how to feel. When he woke up, he was all alone. No Vael, and no Kandro Tyros.  
  
Dutiful, he slipped into his dark coat. Where would he have gone, if not where his friend was waiting for him?  
  
**Then be my friend  - be my friend-friend-**  
  
Alyn wasn't delusional enough to not feel that Maven was hiding something. Maybe he was hiding something only from him, maybe from the world, maybe from his mother. Maybe Elara was in it too. He couldn't exactly say.  
  
All he knew was that he could not and would not retreat.  
  
Something rustled as he opened the door. A paper was neatly stacked in the crack, and he was sure it had not been there when he had returned the other day.  
  
He didn't recognize the writing. But it was made in a hasty attempt. He could see that in the crooked lines, and the smeared ink.  
  
_Alyn,_  
  
He read his name. So it was really only meant for him.  
  
_I asked your friend the guard to deliver this letter to you, in case I am not able to tell you in person._  
  
Julian? Was that Julians writing?  
  
Alyn closed his hands around the letter in an attempt to stay calm, crinkling the paper even more.  
  
_I hope this reaches you alive._    
  
Yes, very much alive, as I hope you are. Alyn swallowed hard.  
  
_Alive, and well. For whatever you are. You are a good boy and will grow into a good man. We both know about good people and intentions, about hearts. I was foolish not to listen, and you were wiser than an old man hiding behind books._  
  
_Platitudes get old, Alyn_ Velx _, as does oneself, but I wish you all but the best until the day we meet again._  
  
_Take care. And remember, I will think of_ you, _because the day is soon to come._  
  
Julian was not alright.  
  
The day they slit your throat, Julian Jacos, remember my words, Ayln had said.  
  
Someone or something had hunted and hurt Julian by now. Alyn was quite sure.  
  
He folded the paper, putting it into the pocket of his coat.                                                                                                                                                                                    

  
  
The letter had not lied.  
  
The door to his room was locked. Alyn remembered his lessons with a lockpick. It took some snooping, but the chaotic atmosphere of departure helped him to move relatively untoubled.

Julian was gone. He was really gone.  His room of stacked books was empty. Alyn gnawed hard on that.  
  
Only dust, dancing in the light.  
  
Foremost, Julian had warned him.  
  
But warned him about what?  
  
About Maven? He remembered his biter resentment that day. There was still some of that left in him. And why was he gone?  
  
Not as hard to crack that case, with Julian on the run adn the scarlet guard missing. He had something to do with that. He had to. Goodbye, Julian Jacos, Alyn thought, kicking the shelf in frustration, before leaving.     
  
   
  
The whole scarlet guard had disappeared. It was a flying word , through halls and whispers.  
  
And with them, the sentinels standing guard had. And Tyros. And Vaels sister.  
  
Up onto the front, where they had to crawl in the dirt and fight for every breath.  
  
Alyn could only imagine what Vael was feeling. But, he too, was nowhere to be found.  
  
Senseless, Alyn strudded through the corridors, watched destroyed and scorched walls, splattered with red and silver blood. To the capital, it was said, they would all move. Alyn wondered if they had just forgotten about him. Like a sleepwalker  he watched the servants and the security, worker bees marching along.  
  
That was when one of the queens sentinels found him.  
  
She didn't speak to him. She just grabbed his arm, and it felt like she was about to crush it.  
  
Alyn didn't resist.  
  
He concentrated all his will on hiding things he did not want Elara to know, in case she was about to overpower his brain again.  
  
"A troublesome morning, my queen." Alyn greeted Elara. In high contrast to him, she looked flawless, not one hair out of place.  
  
He stood not one foot away from the place where he had put the pistol between his teeth. A shiver crept up his spine when he thought about it.  
  
"I hope you didn't think I forgot about you. And your past misbehaving."  
  
Alyn could only shake his head in silent disgust and bitter amusement.  
  
"Vael Gliacon has been removed from the palace and is stationed far away."  
  
"So..you took something I liked away.." Not surprising, it still hurt, it felt like a low blow in his belly  
  
Elara whipped around, lithe cat on her paws, full of confidence. "He is with his sister now, you should be happy to see them reunited."  
  
You bitch. Alyn thought. He pressed all his tired anger against her, his prickling hate and frustration, and for a second, HER EYE TWITCHED.  
  
A small triumph, but a triumph nonetheless.  
  
It didn't last long.  
  
"Ah, speaking of sisters." Elara crinkled her nose, looking at him. Alyn felt sweat forming on his brow.  
  
"What about her?"  What about my sister? He wanted to yell. What did you do?  
  
Elara took her time, wandering around the room, and finally sinking into an armchair.  
  
"She is dead. Died in a rather nasty sickness, not yet one month ago."  
  
She had lied to him this whole time. He had suspected it. But still, all energy had left his body suddenly.  
  
"You never had her,"Alyn whispered, voice hoarse.  
  
"No, but that wasn't necessary. You were naive enough to believe it, and eager to serve."  
  
The carpet had been swept off from under Alyns feet. Arms catch him, steadying his wobbly, shaking body.  
  
"That's enough, mother."  
  
Elaras eyebrows moved up for the slightest of seconds, and Alyn tried to breathe steadily.    
  
He blinked, slowly, body crawling with anger and hollow loss.  
  
"Pack your bag, Alyn Velx. My son wants you to accompany us to the capital. And I do love your presence so." Her smile was the sweetest thing, burning in Alyn's stomach.  
  
Maven pushed him out, very careful before he could say anything. Not that he was able to.  
  
Hitching breath and burning eyes, he held onto Maven's arm, clenching tight around it, as he had his hand just the night before.  
  
You knew you would see her die, the demons whispered.    
  
"I am sorry," Alyn said, breaking contact with Maven's body, still trying to control his breath."I promised to be a friend, not a burden, but all I do-"  
  
"You just lost a sister,"Maven was watching intently, mind wide open. Alyn felt the rotten cracks, but again he felt something else too. He really did care, at least some small part did, as he watched Alyn struggle.  
  
"I lost her a million times since the day I left home," Alyn whispered. What had she been like?  
  
He liked to imagine her like he had seen Mare.    
  
"What is it with the two of us," Maven still stared intently, and Alyn remembered the expression well, even after all those years."That one always has to suffer?"  
  
"It's the way of this world, I fear." Alyn smiled, wiping a hand over his eyes in an attempt to not look overwhelmingly pitiful.  
  
"Do you trust me, Alyn Velx?" It was a tricky question for sure, and Maven seemed to think there were multiple answers. But not for Alyn.  
  
There was no doubt, that even with all the suspicion, the knowledge of what Alyn had inflicted on Maven, there was only one answer. "I want to."  
  
There was confidence burning brightly in Maven's soul, an eagerness, a willingness. No matter what, it seemed to say. And Alyn would have been lying if it hadn't influenced him too."Then you'll find the world changing soon."  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              


	14. Sweetness of lies

_Lies are like sugar cubes for Alyn. They dissolve in his mouth, closed shut, and leave an aftertaste too sweet_.

He didn't ever became a good liar, not in all his time in the prison or in the game.

A mask was good for hiding the pain, but now without any safeguard and a bare face to feel the wind, he only ever felt cold. He sensed the wrath,the pain , he could taste the despair.

As he knew, the colour of your blood didn't matter. A cut hurt a red like it hurt a silver. Feelings didn't get separated by gender or heritage.

The boat was small, and in between other ,less important members of the court and their servants, he was one day delayed from Mare, who he imagined to be a spit image of his dead sister. One day away from sharp tongued Samos,spitting metal rage alongside her brother.

One day away from Prince Maven, who he wanted to trust. Caught in a twist, right in the middle, Alyn didn't know where to go. Heeding his own feelings was strange and he proceeded exploring them with the same caution in which he would have looked into another one's mind.

He had never in his life wanted to trust someone as much as Maven. But that had been before Elara had finished their work. Alyn was not sure how much Maven still was,on his own. The twisted tree with the the blossoms, could he turn to the sunlight on his own?

And what had happened to Julian Jacos, who had left a message of nothingness and warnings?

He had to find out. Somehow.

What was all the power worth if he couldn't use it?

Use it, go on, the demons cackled. You used the power of your mind proficiently in the prison. You made them your slaves in the interrogation room, you made them weep and pray your name.

_Velx,Velx, doing good._

_I'll tell you nothing,silver scum._

_Please,oh god, please stop._

Alyn's eyes wandered over the riverbed, mud and smoke. They passed along the stilts, and he shivered.

He had heard of the kings demonstration,lining up the whole population of red along the river. Power and strenght always had to be broughtby domination,it seemed. A concept barely available to Alyn. He knew what it meant to make people bow their will. He bowed the same. Still it did not hold any pleasure for him to see someoner weaker bent down.

If all the power of domination was a concept that made Alyn nervous. It was an endless circle, were one could stay only so long until he got crushed by someone stronger.

And who knew if stronger meant better? Righteous didn't mean just. Careful didn't mean clever.

But philosophical issues wouldn't be anyone's problem, not with all the trouble meshed inside.

Alyn had as much hope as fear , with both the princes and a lightning girl.

He knew the dance they danced , all three, with Mare in the middle. Lucky or unlucky, Alyn couldn't decide,still shamefully inexpierenced in any matter regarding affection. He scratched his head in speechless confusion.

Whenever he witnessed people kiss, he was taken back.  _That is it? Flabbering lips at each other and then the dirty work starts?_

It seemed undwhelming for something great and grandeuse as love. LOVE.

That made your belly burst with excitement,warmed your skin, let your heart flutter and your hands shake.

Maybe, Alyn thought, he was just a hopeless casee,due to his ability to read and feel others impressions.

In theory it couldn't be hard. It  _was_  just flabbering lips,yes?

Annoyed and insecure, he banished the thoughts of kisses and love.

They passed along the river, and Alyn watched the water. Smoke curled up from the factories.

He had never been closer to the heart of the city.

His life in the palace was a blur, and he couldn't remember much. Now,with eyes that could see their surroundings instead of hiding and praying to pass, he could savor the sight of the ship, gliding through the water.

He could see the capital. As they passed along a bridge, Alyns mind imagined what people were passing above.

Were they on their way home? Did they chat?

We're there people leaning on the ledge of the bridge, looking down on the ship as he looked up?

There was fear and excitement as the flock reached ist destination. Alyn blinked,lost in the crowd, but faster than he had anticipated one of the queen's men had him in tow.

Resistance was futile. And where would he have gone anyway?

He was almost glad to be escorted.

The man did not speak to him, but he didn't need to. Alyn felt him, steady and unmoving, a hand that carried out tasks.

Not one for smallltalk.

Hands in his pockets, curled to fists to fight not only the persistent noise but also to focus through the feelings buzzing through, Alyn found his new home.

And he almost laughed.

In a nostalgic sentiment, or maybe a try to mock him, Elara had chosen the exact same chamber Alyn remembered so well. The room was all the same. Much as he remembered. The curtains were more stained and faded now, the wooden shelf and the bed even more dusty. It was much like returning into an old, reoccurring dream world.

A dream world with two boys hugging, and a silent promise.

She was doing him a favour. He wouldn't tell her that.

Even the lock on the door was the same, with the small scratches that lined up around it.

Alyn felt the little piece of wire and the pin he had stolen to get in Julian's room. They were cool against the palm of his hand. He slipped them back in his pocket. Just in case.

There he had opened the door for the first time, seeing Maven and his brother.

A part of him still remembered the intricate layout of the corridors, the long hallways and the hands that had dragged him around. It's something, he hoped, shrugging off his coat, sitting down on the bed and listened to the buzzing emotions around him.

It was an uproar, like always. Nothing much had changed since his departure.

It was a strained and watchful atmosphere. Much like a dinner with his family, Alyn thought amused, thinking of his uncomfortable shifting father, angry and hurt. His uncle would have sat on the other side, waiting, anxious almost, and caring for his well being. And his little sister blissfully unaware and chattering away, trusting the adults to care about anything.

Now the dinner table at his home would be seated with corpses.

Last of the line, Alyn thought, and the chattering excitement and fright for what was to come almost overtook him.

Careful, focus, his uncle's voice said. It had been a shame, really. Alyn had only had so little time with the only other person in this world that possessed the same power.

A whisper like Elara may have had an understanding, but she was very much content with clawing in minds, and didn't think it as a burden.

And she didn't need to feel all the burden in every sleeping and waking hour.

He was tired to the bone, burnt out.

There had been days and weeks before, times he didn't had power to eat. There had been the prison, where his soul withered away and hid under hard steeled bitterness. Now he was more functional than ever. But his bones ached when he moved up. He wasn't sure how long it would take again before he pulled a gun to his head. And this time he would make sure it was loaded.

But before that, he had work to do, and he had promises to keep.

It was a conflicted matter.

Wanting to trust someone another person warned you about.

_He was good to me when we were young. I want to believe he still is._

* * *

Everyone was awfully busy. Especially the royal family.

There were declarations and broadcasts. Alyn watched them in the kitchen, sneaking around the servants while the poor guard was done with his life.

Tricky thing, sending someone in an emotional crisis without making them want to kill themselves.

Not that Elara wouldn't make due. But for now he had to move. And as sorry as he was. A guard that watched him was something he could not afford.

Alyn was still limping from the attack on the alcove. Strange, he hadn't been hurt physical as much as he remembered. There wasn't much more than a few cuts and bruises. He still felt the pain of burning faces in his dream, and still dragged his right leg behind like he had lost it.

Does that happen? He had wanted to ask someone he know would have an answer. Like his uncle or Julian. Am I imagining things, or does everyone I feel suffer leaves something behind in me? Am I,after all, just a remnant of their suffering? Am I made of despair, pieced together like a stitched stuffed animal?

He watched Mare on the glimmering screen, intently,wishing to be close enough to give her strength.

His initial disgust for her doing had faded into something else . He was no saint himself. Who was he to judge if he didn't understand?

He wanted to . To understand.

_I wished I had ever talked to her. But I was a coward and under the weight of being watched. And who knows if she ever would have liked what I have to say._

It was clear what all this rattling was about. At least to him.

Reassuring the crowd, and showing the control. Pretending.

There was no clue for Julian Jacos disappearance. Vanished into thin air, one might have said.

Maybe he had left on his own good. But why the alarming message that Vael Gliacon had delivered before disappearing himself?

No, it wasn't just that. Something pricked on the edge of his spine while he thought about it. About his talk with the older man.

_The day they slit your throat…_

As a matter of fact,Alyn felt inclined to ask anyone for help. But there was only one person.

And even that was more risky than he was comfortable with.

His poor guard still hadn't retained his cool when he came back to his chamber.

„It's not your fault, you know." Alyn said.

The man looked at him, pale.

„It's mine. All of it."

Alyn gave him a calm, reassuring feeling, before locking the door shut.

* * *

There wasn't much time for him to investigate anything as the evening fire, roaring gunshots, it reminded him of the day on the alcove too much.

He still wrestled the lock open. Following the trails of commotion and bursting energy, of the fog of fight and fever, clouding minds, Alyn was quick to move.

He maneuvered along the walls, careful for his limping leg not to betray him.

Mare was in shackles. Herded like cattle. Like one of his prisoners stuffed in one of the interrogation chambers.

 _Spirits,_  Alyn prayed as he retreated.  _What was going on?_

He wasn't allowed in this part of the palace, and he knew,if someone caught him all alone, it wouldn't end well.

Tumultuous as it was, one more gunshot or another act of violence would have not count much.

Seeing a shackled Maven made his heart stop in all the wrong ways.

But Maven wasn't afraid.

He was calm as water, barely making circles when a small stone is dancing along and sinking. When Alyn pressed deeper into the cracks of his fractured mind, as careful but firm as he could, exploring a ruin of loathing, both for others and himself. He had never seen so much hatred and anger. He had never felt anything ever, not in the way that Maven's deepest,most inner being sung to him. It was the feeling of loneliness distilled in ice water and venom.

He had been worried about the prince before. Now he wasn't as worried as he was afraid and sad.

**We made you.**

**I made you.**

**I wish the gun had been loaded the day I stuck it in my mouth.**

**I wish I was strong enough to save you.**

When the screaming started Alyn was still frozen in place. Gut wrenching screaming.

Limping and clawing at the wall, he moved forward. There was motion in and around him.

He had been far from the only one to hear the screaming.

Betrayal feels like ash on Alyns tongue.

_Change a world, you said, but I never asked you how. Maybe I was afraid of the answer. Maybe I knew it all along, when I watched Elara. Maybe I didn't want to._

There was blood,on a sword, abandoned and scattered before the feet of a corpse, that had once been the ruler of a nation.

Guards streaming into the room. Elara Merandus weeping on the outside. Faithful Maven holding her shoulder tight like he had steadied Alyn only days ago.

 _Lies are like sugar cubes for Alyn. They dissolve in his mouth, closed shut, and leave an aftertaste too sweet_.

Alyn Velx cried, silent, holding on to a wall.

_**The king is dead. Long live the king.** _


	15. Liabilities

**_Is it weak when he recognised the lies and choose to stay?_ **

**_Weak willed Alyn Velx,a puppet dancing on strings. A kicked puppy at the feet of its master,returning._ **

Down, down the rabbit hole, in the stale air, the dark stairs.

Down this steps, Alyn knows, lies something Maven has and foremost wants to walk alone.

Dungeons were still making him feel unsettled.

Tired and silent, he walked along Maven, wondering what was to come. Cold,slippery mind, Alyn held onto the cracks. Anger,fear, hatred, all too human.

Above the last door,the way down, Alyn stopped.

"I'll wait." A promise,made from one lonely boy to the next.

Maven didn't answer. Alyn wondered if he cared.

In another lifetime, Alyn thought, all this wailing sorrow would never have happened. In another lifetime it would have been easy.

Easy for all of them.

Now they shared the aching stuttering hearts in their chests that made Alyn the saddest creature in the world because he wanted to be there for them, but couldn't. He hadn't lost as much as any of them. But he knew the feeling. If that had been any consolation, he would have told them.

You all lost today, Alyn thinks, cowering beside the doorway, feeling the abyss down, under him.

He never was more tired. More guiltridden and sad.

He had tried to pledge and plead . But Maven had brushed every try to persuade him off.

Alyn had been tired and stained with blood and tears.

He could only plead so much before he collapsed.

A wonder at all, that his king had decided he was still worth to be taken along.

Maybe it was more the doing of the king's mother's doing.

_My son has a soft spot for rebellious lost souls,it seems._

_You'll take care that he doesn't flinch. He will not return. He will not have mercy. Watch and learn,Alyn Velx, and do as I tell you ._

She was under a very wrong impression. He had to be patient, gentle, like uncle Theron had taught him to be. He had to be a better person , and he could NOT afford any more msitakes.

He had made too much.

Watching Maven disappear into the darkness, swallowed, it had something very literal, sadly poetic.

Deep is the abyss, and long is the way, Alyn thought. And let all hope go once you enter.

He still couldn't believe the king was dead. And that Elara and Maven had shackled the other prince and Mare down there.

Alyn waited, head leaning against the cold stone, lights flickering a bright neon white above him.

Static rustling in his head, in his heart, the clinking of the lamp above.

It took not too long. It still felt an endless lines of breaths.

Maven was a boiling beacon of anger,filling Alyns side with blinding light.

So much pain to heal,so much sorrow seeping through cracks.

My broken king, Alyn thought, feet moving along his heart beat, stepping in Maven's way. As much part of m mind as my own, Alyn recognized,helpless.

There was something wet in Maven's face. Tears? Spit?

Alyn choose not to ask.

His hand only touched Maven's arm slightly.

"What?" He snarled.

As careful as his thoughts were reaching out,his mind tried to calm all the hurt and anger.

It was too much too ask for one night, but he would remain, come what may.

_**I made you. I made you and now I have to help. Really help. I don't have a nother purpose. Cast me aside if you wish to. But I have to try.** _

Maven let him. He watched him, hard eyed, but the longer Alyn soaked the anger,the softer the line on his mouth got. With another gentle stroke, Alyns mind worked as best as it can.

"You really waited." Maven said.

"Where would I go?" Alyn whispered back. Now he was feeling something wet on his face. "I am sorry if that wasn't clear."  _I am sorry for what I did to you. For everything._

"No."Maven stared at him, and the way he stared was like a mirror to his soul,linked to what Alyn felt. What he tried to mend and hold in the most desperate attempt. "You promised it. And you kept the promise, Alyn."

_**Shattered child, forged in the ice of a vengeful mother, kept in the dark, and feeling so lonely. Alyn feels the tears on his face.** _

_**You could have been brave.** _

_**You should have been more. You deserved it.** _

_**There is still good. I'll scrap it free from all the buried,twisted feelings. I have to. I have to.** _

It took Alyn Velx all he had not to break down,overwhelmed not only by Mavens feelings but his own.

"Let's leave this wretched place." Maven sounded so displeased and rough, Alyn only nodded.

"Always one step behind you, your grace."He whispered. And he meant it.

* * *

Always close, always one step behind, the crowd was still too loud in Alyn's head. He resigned himself into a shell of concentration, to focus, like he was told as a child.

Too many hearts and minds race in the arena, and none is gentle. It's a wild day, a hissing nest of escitement, fear, it's a question of what to come.

Alyn wasn't wearing a mask anymore, but he had a hood on his coat, and he kept it shut tight over his face, leaning forward, lurking behind the illustry party he had accompanied here.

The last bowl of bones...he couldn't even rmember. He remembered his uncle,displeased, and his father, righteousness preaching away.

Was that even the same day? It could have been any day, really.

Elara hovered close, next to Alyn, a veil concealing her ashen hair and fair face. She kept low effort with controling him. She knee his guilt, his blame, his ever consuming self hatred, and she knew he wont ever let got of Maven. But she didn't consider him a threat anymore. And why would she?

Succeeded in her goals, she could now take that spot to MAvens right.

Of course, a small part of her was watching out for him.

A mother loves, a mother watches. How twisted she may be.

Today, we mourn, Alyn thought, watching the black clothed figures. But which one of us does truly mourn? And which one does like to pretend?

Even in death and dust, the game had never changed.

"His Majesty, Maven of House Calore and House Merandus, the King of Norta, Flame of the North."

And with that, the spotlight was on.

There were cheers.

Alyn clings on his fragile focus, and in an attempt to be useful, he extends his concentration on Maven.

Shaken, on the inside, but confident still, as bright and sharp as the day he promised Alyn to change the world.

There was more than ever the vision, the need to impress and to be loved. And with the city around him MAven was close to success.

Alyn's eyes shifted down into the dust, where Mare would die. Where Maven wouldl kill his own brother. Where Lucas would die. And so many others.

He couldn't cheer for his king.

The speech ringed in Alyn's ears. Clever, he felt the crowd shift, the sympathy, the eager will, follow, follow the kings heed. THe new king would lead. Words are meaningless. He knew now. He had trusted words more than his instincts and it had brought him here.

And then, Lucas Samos was the first to die.

Gunshots, ringing in Alyn's ears, a life fading.

Roaring bloodthirst.

The crowd was pleased. So was Maven. But not completely, of course.

Elara felt the same, cold satisfaction running down Alyn's spine, and he wished to throw her off, but couldn't.

Again, she was the one to bring him, not against his will, but she knew, the crowd would render him useless.

Always watch, Alyn Velx. And watch he did.

He watched very closely as silver blood spraid in the fine sand.

He watched Lucas Samos brain get all over, bits and pieces of his skull splintering as the shot gets right through.

Alyn barely knew Lucas Samos, but he detests the violence, the gory satisfaction, and the disgrace for a honourable man who only did what he was asked to. He guarded.

Next to him, one of the high house ladies flinched a little, but only her hands show it.

Careful, Alyn thinks, bitter, or you get your share the next time. Never show weakness.

Maven told him that.

The moment before they stepped on the box seats. A hand gripping his, cold, but steady, and a whisper. "Never show weakness."

Alyn was too perplexed. He couldn't say if it was meant to be encouragement, for him and his unpredicable sense of feelinfs. If it was only for Maven, to not loose his head, when everyone was watching.

Or if it was something else all together.

Beneath Alyn the attractions have arrived. Mare Barrow would breathe her last breath in the eyes of thousand. The prince who did not kill his father would die, as the king who did help kill his father watched.

Alyn didn' t want to watch whatever monstrosity of lies, shoehorned together out of simple truths, was running on the screens, but he still did.

Because the sight of Mare, ragged and bloody, left without any chance, is even worse.

Curious, wasn't it? He had detested her as much as he had admired her. He had been terrible jealous, and he still was, as he felt MAven's heart ache when he saw her.

The care, the tenderness, that had not been a lie. Whatever else Maven said or denied, Alyn could taste the realness, could feel how it made his own heart stutter and burn in the most obsessive grasps.

This was not a bonfire, like Thomas had been. It was a forest fire. It was deadly.

Alyn bit his lips, if only to hide the saddest hints of a smile sprwaled across his features.

What a story this is, indeed.

And hadn't he witnessed it all himself? One month, filled with the strangest emotions. Strong minds tended to draw on one another.

_He is going through with it. He is going to kill them both. And what will that to his soul?What will it do to the land? And what things would happen if he didn't kill them?_

"No-"Alyn felt the need , the urge to throw up. With one step, he left his place on the left, far away from the others, as far as it was possible in the crowded box anyhow. But Elara wouldn't let him come any closer.

His hands were not his anymore, his feet followed a different command. His heart beat in rhytm with her thoughts.

Alyn trembled in her grasp.

 _Know your place,_ Elara's voice hissed in his head.

Then he was cast aside.

Only to be sure if he so much as tried to mive closer to Maven, she would make him jump over the edge.

He could her the roaring crowd, rushing with the blood in his ears, and he could hear Maven's voice.

He didn't want to watch the slaughter commence.

Retreating to the farest end of the box, he sank against the wall, hearing the sneers and cries. Feeling red boiling hatred, anger, silver lined cold. And pain.

When would the pain ever stop?

That was when the rain started.

Pouring out , water and thunder roared, lozder than the crowd,louder than the gun shots that had killed Lucas Samos.

Lightning girl, Alyn thought, moving forward, slowly, staring at the dark clouds in wonder.

Water poured over Alyns face, cleansing cold and he blinked in amazement, letting it run along his hands.

And then something else was picked up by his senses. Movement. Minds,strong and one, as the day in the cells.

His eyes met halfway with Elara,just to notice she too,knew there was something. She knew more than he did, but when she leaned over to Maven, there was fear, and the same gut wrenchhing anxiety Alyn felt after Maven tricked him on the hallway.

A last line, a final shot, and it would be over.

Alyn trembled along the ebbs of the storm, water washed over his face as he leaned over the edge.

There is panic spreading through the rows, as the day in the palace, when the bomb exploded.

_Was it really a bomb? Elara and Maven had woven you into their net for a long time. Who knows what killed all this people._

_It didn't went as planned,_  Maven had said, bristling, uncomfortable, because he had known Alyn would have sensed his lying.

So perfectly innocent.

And still, here he was, Alyn Velx, Torturer Velx, mind weaver, healer, killer.

And his loyalties lay there , infront of him, in the face of a shattered boy.

The gunshots were now closer, louder than ever, and when Alyn followed the noise, he saw it wasn't the guard that had obeyed a command.

He feel a scurrying panic, spreading faster now.

The next thing is Elara and MAven, and all the other silver nobles, scattering to the exit of the box.

Maven's clothes and hair are soaking wet.

Alyn moved along, through the crowd, get closer , only to get closer.

None of them needs to speak, they all knew. The Scarlet Guard had striked.

They had defeated Maven.

Defeat.

Alyn felt the bitter mixture Maven radiated, even more toxic than before they climbed the stairs of the arena.

* * *

When the safety was all but certain, locked away, far from the place the Scarlet Guard could strike, Alyn found himself in Maven's quarters.

Elara scurried away, close by, and her sharp voice was giving commands, barking orders, hissing threats. _Planning the next step,for sure._

He sat by the fire, watching tickling flames, flames small in contrast to the one's in his mind.

Alyn was unsure what to say, what to do. Two soaking wet lonely boys, staring in the flames.

Then he moved, Maven didn't stir from his place, and his mind was just as unwavering, lost somewhere for Alyn not to reach.

Alyn's hand closed around the crown glistening on Maven's wet , tousled dark hair.

Maven snapped up, his hands closing around Alyn's wrist, hard.

"Please." Alyn said. "You'll catch a cold if you stay this way."

There's something grateful in the way Maven followed his every move. Alyn pulled the towel over his head, rubbing in gentle circles.

Maven sighed under his fingertips."You don't have to do this."

It's easy for Alyn, to care for someone else. Especially when you never wanted anything but to care for the person. Kicked puppy, Alyn didn't care now. Salvation is far away. "Just let me."

_Let me feel like I have not just witnessed you , giving a command to murder your kin on a broadcast._

_Let me hope there is a part that still can cherish and care without hurting them._

"What about you?" MAven asked, and he felt the wet coat, like a weight on Alyn's shoulders.

"I will endure." Alyn whispered, more for himself than anyone else."Never worry."

Know your place, Elara Merandus had said in his head.

His place was here.

* * *

**_This work will be continued in ‚His shattered grace'_ **


End file.
